


No One Else Like You

by ThursdayNight95



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Minutemen, Raiders, Romance, raider OC, raider turned minuteman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 04:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17780840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThursdayNight95/pseuds/ThursdayNight95
Summary: Warren, an ex-raider and Sturges, Sanctuary's own handyman form an unlikely acquaintance. Things start to go downhill once Warren's past starts to catch up with him. Sturges is convinced Warren is a good guy, but Warren knows raiders, and knows they aren't so easily changed.So join me on this re-telling of their first meeting and come on their journey with me! Please look forward to it!





	1. Flighty

**Author's Note:**

> yup yup yup one day i will stop writing them meeting and just write them living
> 
> also this was supposed to be a smut but warren got shook

"Why do you hide your face?"

It was an innocent, prying question. Warren didn't bother looking up from his work. That handyman should have better things to do than to try and crack open this can of worms. Warren said so dismissively.

"Guess it was pretty rude." Sturges continued. He lit a cigarette and leaned on the wall next to the weapon bench, eyeing the raider with curiosity. "I'm just curious about you is all. Hope you don't mind indulging me while I'm on break."

On break. Okay.

"Sorry, big guy. Not gonna be your exhibition. If you're really curious, ask your general. He's the one who brought me here anyway." He never told Warren there'd be a chiseled, muscle hunk of a handyman here though.

What could he say anyway? He was a thief and a murderer? He stood complicit as people did horrible things for shits and giggles? Sturges would hate him, and for some reason he sort of cared about what Sturges thought.

"You're always out by the river." Damn this guy was persistent, looking at him with striking blue eyes and taking deep drags of his cigarette with such delicious lips. "I used to help out in Quincy with fishin' and Mirelurks. If you need any tips, I--"

"Nah. That's me time. Don't need your help." So Warren shot down any attempt at a shared interest. Quincy, though. What a horror story that was. "Sorry about what happened at Quincy."

"It wasn't your fault." he flicked the ash off his cigarette, then raised his eyebrows. "Or maybe it is. Dunno. If it was, well..." He looked to the house he'd been working on, like someone had called him from inside. "Gotta get back to work. Hope we can talk tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Dunno. I like makin' friends."

Whatever. He wanted something.

Well, the more Warren thought about the frustratingly attractive body the handyman had, the more he realised he wanted something too.

+

Sturges didn't come out and greet him, but his presence was obvious. Maybe it wasn't on purpose-- Sturges did have a schedule and stuck to it closely. Warren just happened to be where he was working.

"A visit, huh?" Sturges finished with the planks and brought out a tape measure and measured again and again. "What's the occasion?" Working Sturges had a different vibe than Casual Sturges. Professional, no nonsense. Probably able to feel Warren's hungry eyes undressing him.

"I was just wandering around." Nice voice crack! Doesn't sound suspicious at all, great job! "Uh. You in a relationship?" Warren you are a master of words.

Sturges chuckled and shook his head, his cheeks were pink either with humiliation or... Well, yeah. Probably just that.

"No, I ain't. Too busy with my work right now."

"You're always working."

"Yup. Why you askin'? Interested?" Jokingly. Mockingly. He loathed Warren. He should have, anyway. He shouldn't bother giving him the time of day and yet here he was, meandering from his work to talk to a man who would've destroyed his life in a heartbeat if this was a year ago. But those beautiful eyes held no contempt. Maybe pity. Maybe. But no hatred.

"Uh. You... Really?" No one had taken this fine man? Not even a woman? Chances were a big buff guy like him was straight. He seemed soft enough to want to live of a farm with a wife and kid. A farm Warren could've raided. His stomach clenched.

Regardless, settlers weren't depraved like raiders or junkies. Telling such a kind, selfless man you hardly know you wanna fuck his brains out is rude. He'd probably take one disgusted look at Warren, say no, and avoid him for the rest of his life. Usually Warren wouldn't get so frozen at the thought, but this one clutched at him like a bloatfly, and stung like one too.

Don't fuck this up.

"Uhhh. Never mind. Why'd you wanna know about a raider anyway?" Warren said of the conversation the other day. Sturges had gone back to his work, and expertly so. He did it so effortlessly, watching his muscles flex, the sweat bead and drip down to his neck, being around such a delicious scent, it made Warren hungry in a way he'd never felt before.

Ravenous.

No. He'd seen raiders take who they wanted when they got this way. Warren would never do anything like that. But he needed this man.

"I know a lil' summary of most of the General's companions. It ain't every day a raider turns into a Minuteman. Usually the opposite. So I was pokin' my nose in your business out of curiosity." he shrugged. "Course, the raider life isn't one easily explained, and we don't know each other very well, so you don't owe me all that."

"I wear the mask cuz I'm really fucked up." It was like seeing one look from this handyman opened the floodgates to a whole lot of babbling nonsense. "I have so many scars." Sturges would never want to kiss him with such a horrid face. He deserved a handsome man like Nate. Hell, even Preston. Those two have better goals and pasts. They were good people. "You don't wanna be my friend."

"It'd be nice. We have a lot in common. I know you love guns. I don't like dealing with them, but I do tinker sometimes. Maybe we could exchange notes or somethin'." Said sheepishly, with pink cheeks.

"Nate told me you didn't like violence." A fucking stupid stance to have when everything was out for blood."So why do you mod guns?"

"I don't always have power armor to fix up. Luckily you've been filling the gun role up damn well in my place." Oh! He looked so proud! Warren's heart was racing. "I'm free tomorrow. I'll get us some beer and food and we'll hang out."

Wow... Warren's ears were hot. Sturges was really making plans like this? Already? Did he really want to know Warren that well?

Sturges was just a friendly guy. Warren was blowing it out of proportion.

Warren agreed and ran off to do his own thing until nightfall. The only things on his mind were sex and friendship. Surely Sturges wasn't a friend with benefits guy like John was, so Warren would just jerk off, biting his knuckles at the idea of making that man moan until he lost his voice, worshipping every inch of his body, tasting everything.

What a beautiful man he'd sullied.

÷

"Don't tell me you actually wanna spend time with that fucking raider." Marcy had apparently been steamed about this all night. Sturges furrowed his eyebrows and finished sowing the seeds.

"He's on our side now, Marcy," Sturges said lightly. "if the General trusts him--"

"You really think * _the General_ * is trustworthy?"

"Marcy. Listen. I know there's a good guy in Warren. He did terrible stuff in the past, I'm sure, but--"

"Don't even talk to me right now. Can't believe you'd try to be friends with the people who ruined our lives! And the General too!" She threw her basket down and ran inside.

"Oh Marcy..." Sturges sighed, picking up her mess. Grief had consumed her from the inside out. Thinking about it hurt him.

"See, I was kinda worried about that, too." Warren's voice was fit for radio, even with that grit and edge it had. Something about it was warm and hazelnutty. He was simply in a shirt, pants, and a varsity jacket. Something about that was painfully endearing.

Befriending a raider was not a task Sturges thought he'd undertake. But Warren, well, he was intriguing. His body language made Sturges feel some way and he hung onto even the stuttered and stumbled words like it was for dear life. All he wanted was to look into this man's eyes and hear what he had to say.

"Don't mind her. She's had a real hard time." Sturges said, looking to the house for a moment. Momentarily overwhelmed.

"Are you sure you wanna be friends with me? People might shut you out. You deserve way better than that." How could a man with a voice that gentle and caring have been a raider? "You're  a good, honest man. Trying to get involved with garbage like me."

"Maybe I see the best in people." Sturges shrugged. "Are we still down for drinks later, or was that the 'I'm gonna flake on you' speech?"

"I wanna drink with you. But I just want you to know what you're in for."

"One hell of a night, that's for sure." Sturges snorted.

Sturges never felt this before. This ache to hear someone talk for ages, this need to stick close. Was Warren charismatic? Not really. He got his way through life with guns and threats. Intimidation and charisma... are they really so different?

"Look, I'm gonna have to take this off when we drink anyway." He bunched up his mask at the bottom and pulled it off, any sort of confidence he had shriveling up and dying.

Warren was handsome from Sturges' standards. His eyes were small and narrow, but glinted with hope. His poor handsome face had been crowded with scars, burns and bruises. It was a wonder he was still alive. He even had a chip in his ear.

"I can make you look real good in comparison," Warren's bold voice dropped to a quiet, shameful wheeze. "if you still wanna go, for some reason."

"Scars don't make people ugly. Actions do."

"Then I'm hideous." Warren decided.

Smooth, Sturges.

"You're not. Not anymore." Magnetic. Warren was magnetic, and a face like that ached for gentle touches Warren was sure to shy away from. Sturges smiled genuinely at him. There's a good man in that tough (well, maybe not as tough as he thought) shell.

"Didn't know they let ghouls in Sanctuary." muttered a passerby trader with a snicker.

"I'll make sure this is the last fucking face you ever see!"

Sturges quickly whisked Warren away. His body was hot with anger and adrenaline. Heart pounded against his chest.

"That person ain't worth it, Warren. Losing shelter and the trust of these people ain't what you want."

"He'll fucking die. I'll fucking kill him myself." He was like a child, voice broken with anger at the world. "I fucking hate these people..."

"It was just one person. A shitty person, but just one." Warren's hands were rough. Trembling. Squeezed into tight fists. Wow, what handsome brown eyes. Warren's anger turned to embarrassment. He bit his cheek and looked away, taking his hands back as well.

"I..." Sturges continued, just trying to break the silence. Surely Warren could hear his heartbeat at this point. "I really wanna be your friend."

"What if you're next?" Warren blinked.

That question lingered on Sturges' mind as he bought the beer and food for tonight. Was making friends with him a bad idea? His temper was so short, one wrong move could be his last. Not that he'd every try, but Sturges preferred honesty in most cases, and that might...

Warren announced he was gonna work on some guns. Sturges told him to look forward to tonight.

What would drinking with Warren be like? Was he an angry drunk? A sappy one? A sexual one? Or a quiet one, watching the world play out around him in a drunken haze?

Surely he had stories to tell. His voice was so gripping just hearing him ramble on about guns would be interesting. Maybe it was the infatuation talking, but the more he thought about it, the more he looked forward to it. Being able to get tips from the best gunsmith in the Commonwealth (which was not an easy title to get from the likes of Nate) would be excellent for productivity.

Night came and he'd worked himself into a need for a bath. Suddenly he was conscious of how much he probably smelled today. Not that a raider like Warren would care, but... He took his bath, changed into even cleaner clothes (a leather jacket and some pants), and made his way to Warren's usual spots.

Warren wasn't out fishing. Not at the bar. Not at his shack.

"Scuse me, General." Sturges said. "Any idea where Warren would be?"

Nate peeked up from his pipboy with a curious expression. "Warren left?" he furrowed his brows. "Well if he ran away, he's probably headed to Goodneighbor. Asshole."

A trip to Goodneighbor wasn't in the cards. Apparently neither was drinking with Warren. He shouldn't have felt so crushed, but he'd been looking forward to it.

"He was gonna be my escort to the Combat Zone." Nate continued. "Not used to seeing you in anything other than overalls. That related to Warren at all?"

That shouldn't have been so embarrassing to point out. It made it seem like he was going out of his way to dress to hang out with Warren.

"I'm usually workin' when you see me, General." Sturges admitted, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "Me an' him were gonna get some drinks but I didn't see him nowhere. Thought I'd ask you about 'im." he shrugged. "I have some extra beer at my place if you need some." With that he left, a twinge of loneliness tugging at his heart.

  + a week later +

"Here."

Ah, there was that rough voice. Wherever he was, he'd managed to bathe too.

Sturges turned away from his work to regard the man who so cruelly flaked on him. Maybe that was a dramatic way to think about it.

In Warren's scarred, mangled hands was a gun. A 10mm, much like the one Warren used himself. Upgraded a hefty amount, cleaned and loaded with ammo. Duct tape ran around the grip. 'STURGES GUN' was written in permanent marker on it.

"For me?"

"W-what, you can't fucking read? I saw you reading those magazines and books, fuck I really--"

"Relax. Thank you." Now he could pull apart the pipe pistol he had on his hip. "You ran off for a week to build me a gun?" He joked. The cool dusk breeze was welcomed on his hot cheeks.

"That was my apology for runnin' off, smartass. But if you don't want it I'll take it back." Warren griped, arms folded. "I knew you weren't gonna use it anyway. But in case you needed to, one shot to the leg and one shot to the chest could kill them."

"Thank you for lookin' out for me, War. Really appreciate it. It looks pretty sturdy, too."

"It sure as hell is. I managed to reinforce it and I cleaned it real well. Never had a problem with 10mm jamming on me, but with the way I made that one, it shouldn't need cleaning for a year." he continued, rubbing his neck. The ground he was pacing on would probably create a ditch by the time he was done talking. "I ran off because I didn't wanna hurt ya. But then I remembered we had plans. So I stayed gone longer because I was afraid you'd never wanna see me again. Who'd wanna see me again, other than a crazy person?" he chuckled and shook his head. "I made a gun to apologise but I don't want you to forgive me because I'm really not good friend material. But wanna know good bump-stock material? L--"

"Slow down, hotshot." Sturges patted his tight shoulders. "Take it easy. I was lookin' forward to hangin' out, but," he shrugged. "Anyway, you're here now. Dinner's in an hour. We can eat together."

"You wanna eat with me?"

"Only if you don't run away this time. I ain't scary. I don't stink-- I hope--"

"You smell like soap and oil."

"Better than sweat, shit and BO, that's for sure."

"Sweat isn't--" Warren stopped himself and did something with his mask to help him breathe easier. "If my shack's still here, we're eating at my dock. The moon reflects off the water real nice."

"Alright. But if you run off again I might be real upset."

"I. I won't." Warren decided.

+

That turned out to be a lie. Warren disappeared again. Not even at his goddamn shack. Probably out doing whatever in Goodneighbor again. Must be chems. Chems always ruin everything. Or maybe Sturges just shouldn't bother. It was obvious he was being led on.

He inspected the gun. The steel shone in the moonlight. It was a sturdy gun, there was obviously a lot of care put into this, and a gun with custom engravings along the slide (which he just now noticed) was a rare find in the Commonwealth. Why put this much effort into polishing and modding a gun if you're just gonna run away again?

A pit filled his stomach.

It was probably a gift to appease him. Just to get Sturges to leave him alone.

'I ran off because I didn't wanna hurt ya, I made the gun to apologise.'

Warren wasn't afraid to be real with people. Sturges could remember at least 5 instances where Warren's brutal honesty was enough to bring 5 separate people to tears. So why was he playing this stupid game?

"I'm givin' you one more chance, Warren." he said to the moon's reflection in the water. "Any more than that and even I lose my patience."


	2. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren decides to change. Or try to, at least.

Nate looked the power up and down. Smiled, nodded.

"You do some nice work, Sturges."

Apparently Nate had enough caps to spare, so Sturges received 500 caps. And apparently he was so well-off that he would't even accept 300 back.

"Well, alright, General. Thank you." Sturges breathed. "It's honest work, at least. Now if she," Sturges patted the armor's arm. "even creaks or squeaks wrong, bring 'er here. I'll fix it and maintain it, free of charge."

"Thanks." Nate got in and took it for a whirl.

Sturges missed the rush of getting into suits of power armor. Testing them out, showing them off. After the whole Quincy incident and seeing the raiders in power armor, it sort of made him sick. Not to mention the Brotherhood of Steel and their actions currently putting a good model of power armor to shame... Whatever. Thinking too much.

"Hey, have you seen Warren?"

Nate blinked. "He ran off? Again? I thought he was here this whole time."

"Well, if you see him--" what, tell him to stop flaking? Tell him some random settler he doesn't really care about misses him? Why'd he even miss Warren in the first place? The most they'd shared between each other was the fact that Warren was a scarred mess. They knew next to nothing about each other. They weren't friends. "Just make sure he's taking care of himself."

"Is this the second time he's flaked on you?" Nate scoffed. "He's never this wishy-washy."

"Do you know him well, general? Does he run away often? I get the feeling he either doesn't like plans or he doesn't like me. Or both."

"I know him enough I guess." he stepped out of the armor, looked it over again, then leaned on it as he spoke. "I mean he does run off sometimes, but it either to get supplies or steal some stuff. He doesn't talk about himself much, so I dunno how he feels about you."

Sturges nodded. "Thanks. Sorry for draggin' you in to all this nonsense."

  + one week later +

"Get out of here! No one wants you here, so beat it!" Marcy, screeching in the middle of the night. Sturges peeked out his window, saw Warren's silhouette and went back to sleep. Dream or not, he didn't wanna deal with it right now.

Morning came and Sturges pretended like he didn't know Warren was here. It seemed like Warren had the same idea and stuck to his shack while Sturges stuck to his work.

It wasn't until Sturges' work involved going to the river that they had to face the music.

"Hey." Uncertainty dominated Warren's voice. "I'm sorry. Again."

"Yeah. Look, you don't have to pretend to like me, Warren." He was replacing pipes and tightening bolts. "Ain't no skin off my nose."

"Oh." It sounded so dejected. "I do-- I..." he trailed off. Clearly he was upset but he knew the pattern. Talk/apolgise, make plans, disappear. Maybe Warren * _did_ * always have a depressed tone to his voice. Who knows? Sturges wouldn't. Nate might. "Do you wanna eat tonight?"

"No." Sturges said bluntly. "You're gonna run off and leave me feelin' like a fool. Again."

For a while there was only the sound of running water and the squeaking of metal pipes and bolts.

Sturges was more angry about this than he realised. Why? Because of the mild infatuation? Because he thought somewhere deep in his mind he could be friends with someone who killed people for fun? Who stole and raped and ruined lives? Who could've been a part of the whole Quincy schtick?

Someone standing you up doesn't mean he wasn't honest about wanting to change. There's good in his heart. He's trying.

But deep down there's a killer. A taste of blood and he'll kill everyone.

"Alright." Warren closed the door to his shack.

Sturges fixed the piping.

His chest hurt.

÷

Warren didn't run off. For once he was in one place for more than a week. That place was in his bed with thoughts swirling in his mind-- why are you like this? What's a creature like you even deserve with a man like him? He's a good person, he doesn't need you ruining it. Let him forget about you. And forget about him, too. You don't need to be involved with a pacifist settler anyway.

* _But I want to._ *

But the people you killed had wants. They had hopes and dreams and lives of their own. You destroyed it. Over handfuls of caps and weak crops and a box of Sugar Bombs. You're the scum of the Commonwealth. You think you deserve a chance at a normal life?

And now you're crying? Is this how much of a pussy you've become? Will crying erase the past? Will crying make you a better person? Will--

* _Knock knock knock_ *

His heart leapt and he sat up straight and wiped his eyes. This could be his chance to make things right. He could finally apologise and sit at the dock with Sturges, whether he deserved  to or not.

With trembling hands he opened the door.

His heart dropped through the ground.

Nate.

"Wow, you're actually here. Wanted to know if you were up to helping a settlement with me. Some raiders are screwing with Oberland again."

Warren nodded silently.

If he hadn't surrendered that day he'd be one of the raiders getting mowed down indiscriminately. He'd be the one getting looted for all he had. There were no questions, just a 'these raiders were bothering us', so they were killed.

The smell of death always made him sick. He vomited as soon as they left the hideout.

"How long were you a raider again?" Nate handed him some water to rinse his mouth.

"Too fucking long, Nate."

"How come you still vomit then?"

"I never fucking liked the killing or the raping or even looking at it. Just the intimidation and theft. I liked the power I had to get what I wanted." And yet he still killed.

Were any of those raiders dealing with those second thoughts like he had been? Were any of them gonna quit tomorrow? Were they human?

Warren didn't accept any caps, just asked for a roll of duct tape.

"For modding?"

"For you to give to the handyman. I'm gonna send you off with some cigarettes and beer too."

"Are you guys having a fight or something?"

Warren scowled at him. "You talk like we're a couple when we've only had some conversations and all I've done is broke promises."

"Chill the hell out. Just asking. Jesus." Nate snorted. "I'll drop this stuff by him. You're not coming back with me?"

"I'm just gonna sleep at the shack."

'Sleep at the shack' consisted of the usual nightmares and laying awake, paralyzed, trying in vain to flee the looming demons. To scream out for help. Failing, but giving up regardless.

He was a monster no matter what he did. Nothing he does now will erase the past. He will never be forgiven. He can't just give lives back.

  +  three months later +

He was a Minuteman. He should've been happy when he got the gimmicky laser musket and costume. It shouldn't have felt so hollow. He was just putting on an act and everyone could see through him. No one believe he changed just because he killed his own kind. He was just a traitor.

Traitor.

Liar.

Imposter.

Rat.

When he wasn't helping the Minutemen he was drinking or sleeping. He stationed himself at the Castle in hopes of making himself believe he was making a difference. In hopes of maybe doing good for the Commonwealth.

The Castle was right on the water. Some days he'd sit out, take his shoes off and dip his feet in. He'd put his hands in too. Feel the sand. Smell the cool, salty air. Sometimes he'd even fish and bring back a meal for the real Minutemen. He would be thanked and praised like he was a genuinely good person who deserved it. Inside it only made him feel worse, like a knife that kept plunging deeper.

He missed Sturges, he realised one night.

Missed a man he'd spoken to a handful of times. But the guy had passion. Nice smile and voice. A true and honest man. Was he doing well? Did he find love, or was he always working? Did he ever take a break?

He wanted to see him again, but chances were he'd rightfully want nothing to do with him. Hell, probably forgot about Warren all together. It was for the best, though.

Warren managed to doze off for a few hours before getting ready for the morning drills.

Nate was greeted with enthusiasm. His weekly stops were always filled with a flurry of jamming ammo into weapons and dusting off their clothes and making sure the food wasn't just standing out in the open.

He always said he was proud of Warren. Warren didn't like the condescending words and never replied, but he knew, for some reason, Nate meant it.

"I mean, from where you used to be, you're a hell of a lot better. I heard you don't even ask the people you save for caps anymore." Nate said one night, a proud smile on his handsome face. "So why are you still so gloomy?"

Warren gave him a dull look. "I don't know who I am anymore. I was a fisherman in Far Harbor. Then I was a raider. Now people think I'm a Minuteman. I'd give anything just to go back to Maine before shit hit the fan. Suddenly doing good doesn't change the fact I'm a monster, Nate. I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're just trying to keep me from gettin' hungry."

"What do you want out of this, then? After all this time you're still-- you're still thinking what you're doing is an act. I think if you would've snapped you would've done it the third week at the Castle. I think you've grown from the man I met a few years ago. Even from the man I knew a year ago."

"Shut the fuck up." Warren growled. "I don't need you being all high and fucking mighty. Turned me into a goddamn goody-two-shoes. Even in Far Harbor I wasn't such a fucking softy... But once you save my life and shit, I turn into a goddamn pussy. I never cried. I never had this stupid depression. It's all your fault." He got up suddenly and started storming his way back go the Castle, but Nate stopped him.

"What's wrong with having emotions, Warren? And with being a good person?"

Warren clenched his fists. Shaking like a leaf. His ears were hot, his limbs were numb. He just wanted to die for some reason.

"I..." he was crying. Again. "I don't... I don't know. Don't touch me. Don't look at me. Don't-- don't talk to me."

  + two months later+

"Here." This week Nate had a gift.

It wasn't often he was sent gifts-- if John or Deacon wanted to give him a gift, they'd usually show up and they'd drink and smoke and forget about things for a while.

It was a holotape.

"What's this? Hope it's that Grognak game." Warren snorted.

"You should give it a listen." Nate said.

Warren did so when he was alone, half expecting it to be a threat from some random raider or something.

Instead he was greeted with a warm, familiar voice.

'Heya, Warren. It's been a while. Probably, what, over six months? Since we saw each other?'

What a bastard. His heart was in his ears.

'I've been hearin' and seein' what you and the Minutemen are doin' out here. I wanna say thank you. I can't go up there myself yet, but I'd like to one day. You're still on my mind, you know.'

A cocky fucking bastard with shit taste. Sturges already knew what a piece of shit Warren was. He heard the stories.

'I wish I'd eaten with you that day. But I was angry. Felt like I was bein' dragged around. But this place without you feels... Well, it feels weird. Even when we were doin' our own things, knowing you were at your shack was a sorta comfort. Sounds pretty weird coming from me, I guess.'

He'd heard enough. Part of him wanted to go back to him, to apologise and get it right, but odds were he was gonna get overwhelmed and run off. Again. He didn't deserve a shot with Sturges, despite this holotape.

But maybe just one night with him, to get him out of his mind once and for all.

'I'm proud of you.'

There was that shitty fucking phrase again. It beat at him like a hammer.

'You don't have to come back or respond or anything. I just want you to know if you do, you're welcome in my home. But be careful out there, Warren. People like you are rare to come by. I don't wanna lose ya.'

End holotape.

Sturges never had Warren to begin with. Warren was just weak and easily infatuated. And Sturges probably wasn't getting any and wanted him to come back.

But the fact of the matter was, they were both still thinking about one another. Why not let it play out, just this once?


	3. Biding His Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get rougher for Warren.

Sturges' life had been full of work. He was always fixing something. It was fun. And helping people was even better. Some days he'd work tirelessly into the night, and again until morning. He needed safety. Shelter. And something to do.

After a while he forgot to think of himself. When wrapped up in everybody else, it was easy to get lost. Especially after Quincy. Some nights he still woke up in terror, hearing the screams and cries of people he just couldn't save. Not just people. Friends. Family. Human beings.

He'd work himself to exhaustion early into Sanctuary's rebirth. Safety was priority. Human lives before anything else. He would work until he could barely breathe, sleep an hour, and get right back to it.

'You'll kill yourself working like this.' Mama Murphy said.

'There's nothing wrong with taking a break, Sturges, we can handle it.' Preston said.

'Thank you for always working so hard.' Jun said.

'Do you ever sleep?' Marcy said.

'You're a good guy.' Nate said.

What would he do if all he had left were gone because he got lazy?

That was his mindset for a while.

Eventually he almost passed out while working on the roof and decided that if he died, no one else could do all this. So he made a schedule. It felt lazy adding two breaks into spots he could be working on, but it was needed. Cigarettes, beer and food were good.

This worked for a long time. He even gave himself a whole day off every other week.

And once things were as strong as they could possibly be, he got to take it easier. But when a busy mind is idle, it goes to the things he'd been avoiding thinking of. So he started fixing up guns after he was out of power armor.

Again, he'd lost himself in his work. Until someone distracted him. Warren.

His cycle was beginning again, of working himself near exhaustion. Out of some sort of habit he went over to the shack, knowing it would be empty, and knocked.

Warren, the ex-raider, was out atoning for his sins. Making the Commonwealth better. It was admirable and honestly unexpected.

He thought of their interactions. One of their first interactions was Warren asking if he was single. He wondered absently if Warren was * _already_ * interested in him. If so, it was probably just as shallow as the feelings Sturges had. It was just looking over at the river everyday that made his heart hurt. There was nothing deeper there. Not for a man he barely knew.

It was maybe a week after Sturges had given that holotape to Nate-- that goddamn holotape-- that the man he'd been seeing in his dreams showed up in real life.

He looked different. More scars. A heavy depressed aura weighed over Warren like an anchor. Shame? Why was he ashamed? Why did he look so fucking sad?

But they met eyes and Warren's face brightened and turned pink.

"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" Sturges chuckled warmly. He didn't think as he pulled Warren into a hug. He just did. And to his shock, Warren hugged back. It was rough. The man never  hugged much apparently, but he melted in Sturges' arms.

He didn't speak until they got to Sturges' house and had a few drinks. It was fine because Sturges could hardly formulate a sentence right now.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Sturges." Warren's voice felt nice in his ears. "I'm gonna kill myself one of these days."

Oh.

"Wait--"

"But." Warren put up his hand. He was smiling. His eyes shone like winter's first snow. "I want you to know I think you're crazy for still thinking about me. And that I really am sorry."

"You better not kill yourself, Warren." Sturges said firmly. He was hot and cold all over, shaking as he drank. He prayed to the lord this wasn't their Last conversation. "I'll keep you here if I have to."

"Damn, you're kinky." A wink. "Don't worry. I don't plan on it anytime soon. I just wanna be honest with you. I think I'm a huge fraud and everyone involved is playing along in hopes I don't kill them."

"I think you're paranoid."

There was a pregnant pause as Warren considered this. Re-crossed his legs. Finished off his beer.

"Wouldn't you be? I don't think you'd understand. You're not a murderer."

"I mean, you're right about that but... I've heard nothing but good things about you lately. From Preston, from the Minutemen, from settlers... Not a single bad thing left their mouths. You're a different person, whether you realise it or not." Getting through to Warren would be like calming a mongrel dog. Impossible. But Sturges had this need building up inside him to try. "There's nothin' better than helpin' people, Warren. Don't you get that giddy feelin' when they thank you?"

"It doesn't last long enough to register."

"So why'd you become a Minuteman?" he scooted close to Warren. Knees touched. This might end badly, he realised, reaching for the man's hand and giving it a squeeze. He wasn't thinking. Just doing.

"I... I wanted to kill the people like me." Warren swallowed, staring at Sturges's hand. "Because raiders deserve to die."

"I think you're a good person."

"You don't know me."

"You never gave me the chance to. Your actions, whether they're just killing raiders for fun, is helping people everywhere. Making the world a better place using all the talent you got-- that's what good people do."

Warren considered this as he gulped down the last of his beer. Sturges let go of his hand. This guy was determined to feel bad about himself.

"I was serious when I said I wanted to be your friend back then." Sturges said.

"I wanna be your friend too." Warren admitted. "So... I'm gonna stop fighting it and running away." he patted Sturges' back with a sad smile. "Looks like we have a lot to talk about."

Being Warren's friend wasn't met with adversity anymore. And Warren was growing friendlier by the day, to Sturges at least. They ended up sharing those gun tips, Warren talked fondly about his time in Far Harbor, and Sturges ended up liking Warren a lot.

Sturges had made a genuine friend, he realised after their fifth visit. Warren was trustworthy and when he grinned it was like everything was alright with the world.

"Alright, handyman. Gotta go back to the Castle." Warren huffed from the couch one morning. "I... I can protect you if you wanna come with. It's such a nice view of the ocean. Not better than Far Harbor, but damn." he stretched. Changed and put his armor back on.

Sturges wanted to go. But for some reason he got this chill down his spine. If he left, something bad would happen to Sanctuary. Something will break, a turret will jam, Super Mutants will attack. He had to stay here and fix defenses.

"I can't."

"You're gonna work yourself to death." Warren said, a tinge of concern in his voice. "Well, I'll keep asking every visit until you say yes."

"... Why?"

"I thought we were friends." Warren shifted his weight to one foot. "Buuut, you * _are_ * a settler. A little too soft to go around the Commonwealth, I guess." he shrugged. "If you do decide to come with me one of these days, I'll show you this boat I found. She ain't ready to go out on the sea, but she's full of goodies. And I got a room pretty far from everyone else."

What'd his room have to do with any of this? Checkers and cards did get pretty intense, but--

Oh.

* _Oh._ *

"Don't work too hard, Sturges. See you next week."

÷

"I swear we need to get you a vomit bucket." Lucy chuckled.

"I swear, you need to mind you own damn business." Warren muttered. He rinsed his mouth out and didn't say anything until the group had buried the bodies. "Look. I'm sorry. Smell of death is a real good if you like to puke your guts out."

"I thought you liked killing Raiders, though?" She tilted her head.

"I do. I'm not a fucking pussy. I'm not throwing up because I'm a pussy or anything. Grow up."

Lucy shook her head. "I didn't say you were. I think you're just compassionate."

"I'm not. I'm a goddamn man. I just... Don't talk to me anymore." he decided.

"After you shot those heads off those guys trying to kill me? No way. You're a hero!" Lucy smiled warmly. "If it wasn't for you I'd be just another dead settler."

Warren didn't respond. He gulped down a bottle of Nuka Cola, and some rum right after.

Was he a hero? He didn't act like one. He didn't feel like one. That feeling of being a fraud still clung to him like a monkey on his back. At least he'd be visiting Sturges tomorrow.

Lucy continued to talk to him. He hated conversation. He hated this fake-ass gratitude. Lucy was afraid of him-- even she couldn't hide that yelp of fear when she heard Warren's voice. He had a terrifying presence. All because, somewhere deep inside, he liked still having that kind of power.

That made him a monster. And just an asshole in general.

He barely ate that night. Barely spoke.

Despite things around him changing for the better, he was stuck in one place, a wall refusing to move.

An asshole screaming at people who meant well.

Why did he do this? These people did nothing to deserve it. These were genuinely good people and here he was. Just being himself in a different uniform. Minus the stealing and asking for caps.

He should quit the Minutemen.

Or die while fighting for something he thought was good.

Sturges was happy to see him at least. They went out to the river. Sturges showed him the power armor he'd been working hard on at the Red Rocket, also said he tried cooking the recipes Warren told him about-- and really liked them.

What would Sturges act like if he found out Warren died? He would move on, right? After all, a guy like Sturges had plenty of friends. Hell, even the Atom Cats visted him from time to time apparently.

But would he be sad, or would he just say he would be to make Warren feel better?

"You seem preoccupied," Sturges said, finishing his cigarette and trying to meet Warren's eyes. "you wanna talk about it?"

"No." Warren said quietly. "Thanks. For bein' a friend to me."

He should thank John, Deacon and Nate too.

"I don't like that tone. But you're welcome. I'm really happy we finally got to hang out. I'm always here if you wanna talk to me, you know. You mean a lot to me."

Warren nodded. How could Warren mean anything to anyone?

"Are you afraid of me?"

"I used to be."

Crickets chirped, the wind rushed around the trees. The smell of the spring flowers greeted them, despite the sun falling down, down down.

"No matter what I tell you, you're not gonna believe me, are ya? That I think you're a great person and all that?"

Warren shook his head. He couldn't bring himself to finish this stupid gun right now when he wanted to blast his brains out.

"Then can you tell me why you think the way you do? I really don't get it. Maybe I never will."

So Warren explained how he felt. By the time he was done the moon was high in the sky and his shoulders felt lighter. It was easier to breathe but his throat was raw.

"Livin' with ghosts like that..." Sturges began softly. "I can't imagine that. Changin' the past is impossible. Killing yourself won't fix anything either."

"But I won't feel like this anymore."

"But you also won't be happy anymore. You won't get to see the ocean or help people or find peace with yourself once you're dead. You're gonna leave a lotta people behind, Warren. You might not see it, but to those settlers, you're like a guardian angel. At least that's how I see it." he cleared his throat. "Dunno what to do about your withdrawals. Why don't you wait till you get over those before you make any brash decisions, alright?"

Warren nodded soberly. His face was red and swollen from crying like an idiot.

"Hey. C'mere."

Before he knew it, Sturges pulled him into a big, strong hug and didn't let go.

"If you want me to be selfish about it," he continued. "if you got killed or killed yourself I'd be lost. I really do care about you. I wish I knew how to help you. If I could, I'd take all your damn suffering away."

"It's karma, Sturges." Warren mumbled in Sturges' neck. "Don't you think I deserve it for all the shit I did?"

"I think you deserve a second chance. Seems to me you don't think so. You said you decided to finally take a chance and actually visit me... Why don't you take a chance on yourself too? Just try it out."

Take a chance on himself... What did that even mean?

He wanted to get mad, but he couldn't find it in his heart. Sturges cared about him. So for Sturges' sake, he'd give himself a chance.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is all the story I had stocked up. i plan on actually finishing this, please look forward to it!


	4. Planting Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things just keep happening.

It was about 3 pm. The sun was high up in the sky, water tasted like ambrosia, the metal and steel was getting hot to the touch and the grass was starting to smell like straw.

Warren was on his mind as he fixed up windows and helped out settlers. Of course he was.

All the way in the Castle, trying to be something he thought he wasn't.

Alone.

What if he did something?

The plan was to come with Warren next time he offered. Spending... Intimate time with him, be it * _all the way_ * or not had always been on the back of his mind, though he was too ashamed to think on it too long.

His grip on the wrench tightened. He wiped the sweat from his brow. He was gritty. Had been working harder than usual lately.

Warren needed help.

What if next week was too late?

There were some mercs around here he could hire to come with him on the way. But who would protect Sanctuary?

Yeah, there were turrets and guards and huge, impenetrable walls fastened by his own hands, but... They could handle it, right? His stomach clenched. He swallowed hard. Finished his work and went to clean himself up in time for dinner.

"Eating alone, Sturges?" Preston asked, sitting next to him by the river.

Well, he wasn't sure if pecking at his peas and macaroni counted as eating, but,

"Just needed to think about stuff." It was kind of selfish to think the settlement would fall apart without him being there. "You in touch with Warren often?"

"I see him at the Castle from time to time. He's always at the weapon bench or on the beach, when he's not fighting."

That was in character. Sturges nodded.

"Has he seemed off to you?"

"I don't know him too well, to be honest. He keeps to himself. Heard he lashes out at people, though. Ronnie doesn't like it."

"Are you goin' anytime soon? To the Castle that is?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"Hope ya don't mind me joinin' ya. War's not in the right headspace right now to be alone."

Preston nodded with a smile. "Of course. Should we take that power armor of yours?"

It wasn't a bad idea. It would help hold some supplies and stuff for the trip.

So Sturges packed his stuff and some things for Warren. His heart was racing, mind swirled with anxiety about everything. But he bit his lip and continued. If Warren died he'd... Well, he didn't know what he'd do. He had no plan, no idea what to say or what he'd do when Warren went on a mission, but he was going anyway. Support is all some people need.

Bright and early. Sturges was showing Preston how to work that particular type of power armor when Nate showed up, asking for Sturges specifically. Probably meant he wanted another upgrade or to look at a blueprint.

"You're the only one I could think of to make this for me."

It was some sort of joke what the General handed over. Looked like it was written by a child. The writing was hard to read and he could barely make heads or tails of what he was seeing.

"It's a Molecular Relay. It was given to me by an ex-Institute scientist." Nate said.

And up went the anxiety.

Making this would take a lot of time. But getting into the Institute-- that would be legendary. He'd be a fool not to do this, but the timing, the fucking timing on this...

But in the end, it would all come down to engineering. Once he could parse this, he could get it done.

But * _Warren_ *.

He could read this at the Castle.

"You're...?" Nate blinked.

Was this being selfish? Should he stay until this was finished? Warren wouldn't kill himself, right? He had to lean against the wall to keep his balance.

÷

"You need to be more careful." the doctor said, pulling his hand from the water and patting it dry before wrapping it in bandages. "This is the third time I've had to patch you up this week."

"No one told you to." Warren muttered, taking his hand back. "Uh. Thanks, I mean. I..."

"And you haven't been eating, either. It's not good to go out there with such little food. And * _especially_ * in this heat! And make sure you're drinking your water."

For a moment it felt like he was back at Far Harbor. The smell of the sea, a well-meaning mother, mirelurk meat and eggs on the table. She would always read to him, make sure he was fed and safe, hold him when he needed it.

He clenched his fists.

"Alright. Thanks." He repeated through his teeth.

"And you're so stressed. I don't usually recommend chems, but I do have some Calmex. Since things are looking quiet today I could administer you some. Just make sure you eat and drink enough today, alright?"

Those goddamn Trappers.

"Whoa. Relax your arm. I can't do anything with you tense like that. Take a deep breath. There ya go."

Warren woke up in a cold sweat. He threw on his clothes and went to sit out by the beach. Then fix some guns. He'd busy himself and his mind a bit before he was annoyed by a familiar voice.

"Warren? You're awake at this time?"

"No, I'm a synth that looks like Warren." Warren rolled his eyes. "Why the hell are you awake? You got drills in the morning. Get the fuck to bed."

"Friendly as always." she sighed and sat at the bench near him.

Eyes on him.

"What do you want, then? Your gun's clean as a whistle, I already upgraded it all I could, the drills tomorrow are gonna be pushups. You're shit at those so you better get your ass to sleep so you can keep up."

Why was he so rude? She was nothing but kind to him.

He stopped working in her silence and clenched the edges of the workbench, blinking back furious tears.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, Lucy. I didn't... I don't mean all this shit. I'm always yellin' at everyone and... They all hate me, don't they?"

Lucy was quiet a moment. "You're not the first one people go to for friendship, that's for sure. They call me crazy just for talking to you."

Of course they do. They wouldn't understand. They couldn't. The only people who understood him even a little were John and Sturges. But Sturges, poor poor Sturges, was a simple man who didn't deserve this baggage.

"I wanna change." Warren said. "I thought bein' a Minuteman would fix me. But I'm just a raider in a fucking Minuteman costume."

"Well, why'd you wanna change in the first place?"

"Cuz I hate raiders. I tried helpin' out the General, but I kept stealin' and bein' an asshole and he ended up droppin' me for the most part. And then I met this guy."

He bit his lip. Tapped his feet. Took a deep breath.

"He means a whole lot to me. Thought somehow I'd magically change once I realised that. But no. I'm only soft around him." His breath shook. "I wanna be a good guy. Someone like him. Someone he can be proud to be... friends with. It's lookin' like I'm just a fuckin' asshole with an attitude problem deep in my heart."

"So... What I'm getting is, you don't wanna change for you? You wanna change for some guy?"

The waves sounded so nice crashing against the shore.

"I wanna change for me too. But mostly him. It's * _cuz_ * of him I know there's a good person in here. But the more people point out me bein' nice, or they're proud of me, it gets me angry."

"Don't know what to say to that, Warren." she blinked. "Why do you get so mad?"

"You think I fucking know? Goddamn. I don't know shit. It's really pissing me off. If this fucking change of heart shit doesn't happen quick I fucking give up."

"Change takes time. The seed's already been planted, Warren. Give it some time and nurturing. It'll grow. You just have to be patient."

Warren rolled his eyes.

"Patience. I don't got a lotta that." He put the scraps he was putting together away and looked up at the sky. The stars were beautiful, sparkling and twinkling up against the blackness of space like they didn't know about the War. Just watching like bedazzled guests. He never took the time to learn about the stars or the moon. Maybe he should look into it. It would impress Sturges for sure, having more than ocean and gun knowledge. "I'd like to someday, though."

"That's the spirit." Lucy smiled. "Wanna get some sleep?"

"Not yet. I wanna thank you. Uh. For being nice to me even though I'm a huge dick." It wasn't much, just a few packs of gumdrops. "I didn't check and see of there were any green ones, but beggars can't be choosers."

Lucy gave him a big hug. He didn't like it much, but he patted her back and nodded.

"Alright. Now I'm goin' to bed. You better be, too."

"I was actually on the way to the bathroom. See you in the morning."

Did Warren have a good heart? Did having a small seed of good outweigh all the bad he'd done? Was the bad the fertilizer, making his 'good' even better because of it? He'd have a lot to talk about to Sturges between the model robot making and the drinking and whatever else that poor man had to endure because of him.

But imagine that smile. That charming smile when he finds out that Warren might be okay after all.

+

Warren arrived to Sanctuary with heavy feet and an empty stomach. He still couldn't eat too much without wanting to vomit, and part of him ached to turn around and get in a firefight. But he refused. He had to keep this plant growing for Sturges.

Apparently that was Sturges, surrounded by all that machinery and a weird claw-looking thing. Who the fuck else would it be? Other than maybe Nate.

"Hey, handyman. Come here often?" He sat his backpack down and leaned against the big ol' thing with a lot of buttons.

"Oh Jesus, thank God you're alright." he stopped whatever he was typing on the tiny computer to give him a big hug. "I-I was gonna visit you a few days ago but then the General came in and wanted me to help him build all this--"

"Damn your heart's racin'." Warren pushed Sturges' hair out of his face with a gentle chuckle. "Relax." Sturges seemed to melt at this and finished with the hug. People were looking. "You were gonna visit me?"

"You had me worried." Sturges admitted. "Every minute I spent makin' this coulda been spent makin' sure you were okay. So. I'm glad you're okay. I could almost kiss ya."

"Almost?" Warren folded his arms.

Sturges' face was red.

"Anyway, what... what is all this? Death beam? Could use this at the Castle."

"It's a... a Molecular Relay. It's gonna send the General to the Institute." He sounded like he couldn't believe it himself. Sturges explained while Warren blinked stupidly.

"Alright. So you guys sending him with a bomb or what?"

"Not yet. He's lookin' for his son after all." Sturges shook his head. Couldn't keep his eyes off Warren. "Warren, the General's got cold feet. I've already made sure everything's as good as it can get. Quadruple checked everything. I need to spend some time alone with you."

Whoa.

So they were in Sturges' house. He was trembling as he prepared the food and drinks.

"Hey. Maybe you need some rest. How long were you working on that shit?" Warren demanded, anger flaring in his heart. Sturges was gonna die one of these days and it'd be everyone's fault. "Sit your ass down."

"I'm fine. I've worked harder than this before." He brought the food out to the table and let out a sigh. Stretched. Popped his back. "I'm so worried about you."

"So we're in the same boat." The meal was rich and flavorful. Apparently Sturges kept those recipes somewhere cuz it tasted like it was straight from home. "That shit's impressive, but..."

Sturges was still shaking as he ate. Warren got up and got him a cold drink from the fridge.

"Have you been eatin'? Drinking water?" he pressed the cold bottle of water to Sturges' neck. "Sleeping? We had someone pass out from the heat before. Don't be fucking stupid, putting everyone else before yourself." His fingers dug into Sturges' shoulders. "Even me. Don't fucking waste a single night on me. Eat and drink up. And I'm glad you're in pants today, cuz you need that shirt off. I'm gonna get a cool bath ready for ya."

"You don't..."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Warren was really pissed off.

÷

"Finally, you're awake."

That was Warren. His eyes were red and puffy.

A fan was blowing cool air. Apparently Sturges had been stripped down to his underwear. A cool washcloth was on his forehead.

"The doc told me to keep you cool. You fucking idiot." Warren's hands shook as he wrung out another washcloth. "People around here kept tellin' me you haven't slept in a while. You know you can die from this shit, right? Happens a lot to the raiders I ran with. They'd just drop. No one cared how or why as long as we weren't getting shot at."

Sturges was too weak to talk. The washcloth felt nice and cool against his neck. Warren wiped at his eyes and let out a shaky sigh.

"Don't do this shit anymore, Sturges." Warren said firmly. They met eyes. He saw fear strike Warren's very core. "S-say something."

"Sorry." he was too tired to talk. The cooling was working wonders. But that relay machine was waiting. Their one chance to destroy the Institute from the inside out was right there. If anything went wrong it would be all his fault.

"Stay down." Warren growled.

A chill ran down his spine.

"I'm your nurse. Until the doc comes in and says you're alright, you're not fucking leaving."

Well. Warren nursing him back to health was completely unexpected. More embarrassing than he thought it would be. And while he knew Warren had a soft side, he never expected to be cared for so tenderly.

He just felt so fucking weak. Warren pointed out he'd been working nearly non-stop for over a year or two. So what? So fucking what? That was no excuse to stop. Important things could be breaking. Mutants could be planning to destroy the walls right now. Sanctuary was a target, everybody was just--

"What's wrong?" Warren asked. His hand was rough but the squeeze was so full of care Sturges almost lost his train of thought.

"I just hate layin' here all damn day. There's so much work to be done. And what if Nate wants to go to the Institute? What if it's too late all because I--"

What a scary glare.

"Stop it. Other people around here know how to fix shit. And Nate's still shufflin' his old ass around doin' all this other shit."

"If I hadn't passed out he'd have been able to go."

"Hate to sound like an asshole, Sturges, but this place'll still be standing without you." he said dully.

It was like a punch to the gut.

"You put your blood, sweat and tears into this place. You think taking a week off is gonna make it fall to pieces? Last time I saw this place, a while back when it was just gettin' off its feet, it was prime raiding material. Still is." he took Sturges' hand and rested his cheek on it lazily as he spoke. "My outfit planned on doin' it. Went out, gathered more people. Week later it was like a fuckin' castle. No one had the guts to come in. You work hard, Sturges. You can rest now."

"I don't wanna."

"Tough shit, handyman. You're * _gonna_ *." Warren squeezed his hand again. "Don't fucking scare me like this anymore. Okay? Please?"

Sturges sighed deeply. He promised. The only time he'd seen Warren this shaken up was the suicide talk earlier that month.

"Why're you crying?"

"I... I don't know."

Warren held him tight. It was nice to feel his heart beat against Warren's own. To be so close to someone he held so dear. He balled his fists in Warren's jacket and let his tears fall. Maybe he just needed to cry.

There was safety in this man. His scent, his warmth, just being so close made it feel like he was home. He could be squatting in some abandoned store full of ghouls and he'd still be at home as long as he had Warren. He didn't want to let go, and neither did Warren, but,

"I'm gonna get you some water. You probably lost all you had from cryin', ya big softy." he sniffed.

"Thanks..." Sturges nodded. What a mess he'd made.

The person who stepped through the doorway wasn't Warren or Nate. It was the doctor. She checked his vitals and asked him if he could stand.

When he stood, the world spun and he felt the tiny bit of food he had wanna come back up. It was hot. She sat him back down and gave him the towel.

"How long am I gonna be out, Doc? I... I just got one more important thing I need to work on."

"It's looking like two weeks at the most. Just need you to focus on sitting up right now."

Two fucking weeks.

"I gave your friend the list of things you need to do. Drink more water. Eat better. And take it easy."

"Doc, that Molecular Relay is gonna get the General into the Institute. I'm the only one who can make heads or tails of it."

"Stress like that is what's making it hard to recover." she said lightly. "I understand-- that's a tall order. A great feat. But you can't do anything like this. So let yourself relax."

He couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. She brought out a syringe and cleaned it.

"I'm gonna give you a little bit of this. It's Calmex. Make sure you drink some water after this, alright?"

She put it in his elbow and shot it. First he felt cold. Then hot. Then just right. His muscles relaxed from their tight state.

"He doesn't like chems, ma'am." Warren said dully. He had a different, rougher voice when he spoke to others. "If he gets addicted I'm gonna--"

Sturges put his hand up. It wasn't shaking anymore.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Warren. And thanks, doc."

He was injected with chems. If it was possible for him to get angry or panic about it, he would. Instead he just drank that water and prayed he wouldn't wind up addicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol calmex twins


	5. Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren's an idiot.

Some raiders killed the sick and grievously injured. Sometimes one would try and lob a grenade back and it'd explode right in their hand. While Warren would, holding back vomit, suggest just cutting it off, only to hear a gunshot and the whimpering of pain cease. It wasn't often, and only with the power hungry leaders who forgot the raiders were, ultimately, trying to survive.

The sick were usually in luck. They didn't have to run out all the time and could usually rest with chems and stimpaks until they got better. But the ones who passed out were left alone to die on the battlefield after being looted for all they had.

Warren sometimes considered dragging them back, but the gunfire wasn't worth it. Besides, often times they were worse than Warren was-- so were they really worth risking his neck for? No.

Current Warren leaned back in his chair and stretched out. This is the most relaxing he'd done in ages. He pondered if Sturges had been part of a weaker settlement (not counting Quincy), would Warren have killed him? Or happened upon his poor dead body? Looted him for the meager caps and duct tape he had? Or would he have had a sudden, forceful pang of realisation that he didn't want to be a raider anymore and try to protect Sturges and the other settlers? If things had just happened a bit differently, where would they be now?

If Far Harbor hadn't gone to shit, what would Warren be doing? Would they have found each other?

Fuck, why was he thinking about all this gay, stupid shit?

The air was thick and heavy today. Even walking through the house felt like wading through a pool of sludge. The doctor said it was easy to lose hydration in weather like this, so Warren took extra care to make sure Sturges had plenty of cool water to drink when he woke up.

Occassionally he'd press his ear against Sturges's chest and sigh with relief that he was just asleep, despite Sturges very obviously breathing. But being so close, if only briefly, sent Warren's heart racing. His cheeks flushed. His breath hitched. Somewhere deep down he felt invasive. Selfish. But why should he, when he knew he was just checking on Sturges because he was worried?

Seeing him so weak and tired filled Warren with unspeakable dread. Just the thought brought stupid, embarrassing tears to his eyes.

Why?

Would he feel this way about Nate passing out? Or John or Deacon?

He wouldn't get teary about it. That pissed him off. He went out into the swampy heat for a much needed cigarette.

Three cigarettes later, Preston showed up. Warren had spoken to Preston on occasion, mostly about Minuteman stuff and using Warren's knowledge on raider operations to find a way to storm them in. Not often he asked about personal matters.

"How're you holding up?" Preston was too nice for his own good.

"Probably won't feel better until he's fit as a fiddle." Warren rubbed the blades of grass absently between his fingers. "Past few days've been the same. Drinks water. Sleeps. Gets up to piss. That's the cycle. W-what if he never gets better?" The fear was like a knife twisting in his stomach. "Fuck. I- I gotta check on him." His knees were weak as he stood up.

"Slow down. Never seen you so scared before." Preston stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. "He'll be fine. Let him rest."

"I... I don't want him to piss the fucking bed."

"You just said he wakes up to do that." Preston chuckled. "Relax. I know Sturges, and I know he'll be okay. Let yourself relax."

"Preston-- Sturges-- I..."

"Do you like him?"

Warren blinked. The humidity suddenly felt hotter and more suffocating.

"Of course I like him. He's my friend. I don't want him to be alone like that."

"I know that. But the General says he's never seen you so worried about anyone either. Was just curious if maybe you * _liked_ * him liked him."

Why were his ears hot? Why the fuck was it so fucking humid out here? It was the anger, Warren decided with clenched fists.

"What's it fucking matter to you? So what if I care about him? You gonna make fun of me?" he demanded, heart banging against his chest. Was wanting to settle down with someone out of his league funny? Absolutely. Everyone had every reason to laugh and talk him out of it because Sturges deserved better than an ex-raider with anger issues.

"No. I think it's real sweet, actually." Preston admitted. "Not used to seeing you so soft about people."

"F--" He wanted to say fuck off. He wanted to scream it and to bury his head in the ground and yell. But what would that accomplish? Preston wasn't doing anything wrong? Warren let out a heavy sigh. "Don't get used to it." he said finally. "It's just him. Once he gets better I'll be back at the Castle."

"Take your time, Warren. Besides, Sturges is always looking forward to seeing you. I'm pretty sure he's kinda thankful for this, deep down."

Oh come the fuck on.

"Now you're just fucking with me! He doesn't... He... Me? You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. He's always talking about all the stuff you guys do together. You make him really happy."

Those last words echoed in his ears and his heart. He clenched his chest instinctively. Gulped. Sweat dripped down his neck.

Was the plan a few days ago, when Sturges 'needed to be alone' with him, was it for a confession? Sex? Would Sturges really have such horrible taste in partners?

Now * _he_ * was gonna pass out.

He left Preston with a weak good-bye and went to wash his face. The cool water felt so good against flushed skin.

Someone so good, liking someone so vile.

He ran his wet hands through his sweaty hair.

Warren had to be blowing this out of proportion. Preston obviously meant that in a friendly way.

He plunked on the tile floor, head spinning. Shit, he might actually pass out. How dramatic.

Karma didn't fuck around. Warren didn't deserve anything from Sturges. And Sturges could never truly love a monster like him.

The door creaked open.

Warren immediately whipped out his gun.

"Whoa..." Sturges blinked, holding on to the doorway. "Is that a gun in your hand... Or are you just happy to see me, hotshot?"

That sleepy, crooked smile made Warren wanna turn the gun on himself.

"Sorry. Still not used to being in a place with actual doors." holstered the gun and caught his breath. Got up on jelly legs. "You need help?"

"Nope." His voice was so warm and groggy. "Goddamn, it's so hot today."

Sturges was sweaty. It would be excruciatingly attractive if he didn't already pass out from the heat once.

"A-are you alright? You need more water?"

"I feel like I'm already drinking more rations than I need to." Sturges admitted. "Don't worry so much about me. I'll be alright. I promise."

"If you fucking lie to me I'll break every bone in your body." Warren said through his teeth.

"Hey... Relax." He zipped up. Washed his hands. Warren steadied him and led him back to the room and brought in the desk fan he'd bought to add to the collection. "I'm pretty awake now. Feels good." he put his face to the new fan and sighed. "Has anything broken while I was out?"

Warren's heart.

"No, dumbass. I told you things would be alright." he got the cool towels and put them on Sturges' shoulders. Why was he so hungry all of the sudden? Why did he just want to feel skin on skin? Was it the heat? Or the idea that maybe Sturges might like him back? Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!

"Yeah. You might be on to something." Sturges admitted, using a magazine to add to the cool air on his body.

Christ. He didn't want to think like this anymore. He'd already sullied Sturges' image once, doing it again would just be so disrespectful Warren could add that to the long list of reasons he was killing himself. Sturges was sick right now! Warren couldn't do anything even if he wanted to.

And even if Sturges wasn't sick, he wasn't the friends with benefits type. But Warren liked Sturges much, much more than a friend.

"Had a dream we went fishin' down by the pond." Sturges said. "You know that 'automatic fishin' pole' you were talkin' about a while ago? I'd managed to make it. Reeled the fish in-- the pole became a shotgun. Except the ammo was the fish." another sheepish smile. "You swiped the gun up and shot the fish at another fish and it turned into a whale. Pretty impressive."

Warren loved Sturges and that goddamn smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really short, but i felt like i couldnt let this one go too long


	6. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sturges has something to say, and Warren's a real softy for that guy.

Warren was going stir crazy. Tapping his feet, smoking nearly all the cigarettes, patting his thighs as if it would pass the time faster. Meanwhile the guilt of basically trapping Warren here was killing Sturges.

"You don't have to baby me, War. I'm just fine." Sturges would say. He was looking like a mummy with all the damp clothes Warren had carefully put on him.

"Fuck you." was the usual gruff response.

Sturges spent the first few days of his sickness in and out of consciousness, soaked in sweat, and drinking water. Warren was there, either pacing, talking to the doctor, or forcing him to eat.

If Warren was so eager to leave, why would he stay? It was kind of him to stay by Sturges' side, but surely after the fifth day of this nonsense he would've left the house more often. That wasn't to say Warren was a nuisance or annoying, but more of a question that Warren didn't like responding to. Sturges made sure to stress how thankful he was. He didn't say outwardly how shitty this was, just laying in a goddamn bed for days when he could be doing literally anything else. He didn't try, no matter how much he wanted to, to get up and fix something. His body needed rest. Warren was sure to let Sturges know that. His grip on Sturges' arm was tight, but trembled with... fear, probably.

The doctor said that Sturges could get up and walk around at some point. Warren was eager to help and hold him up while he got back on his feet.

Why did Warren care so much about him? A settler? Sturges' wasn't self-conscious by any means, but he did truly wonder what Warren found so interesting. He wondered about those soft looks that made his heart bang against his rib cage. About the gentle 'good night's and the constant touching.

Did Warren treat Hancock like this? Or Deacon? He always spoke fondly of those two. Surely, surely Warren was just entertaining Sturges' emotions while he was sick. Or maybe he was thinking too much about it.

It was day 3 of Sturges feeling lucid and on his feet that he finally decided to say something.

"I really can't thank you enough for stickin' by my side. It means a whole lot to me." he said earnestly.

Instead of a 'no problem', he got a death glare. "Don't you fucking do that shit again, you hear me? Scaring the fucking shit out of me. Thought for sure you were gonna-- gonna..." his voice cracked. "Fuck." he whispered.

"I won't. I promise." Sturges said. "I'm sorry for worryin' you. Why don't we go for a dip in the river once it gets a bit cooler out?"

Warren chewed his lip thoughtfully. Came over to the couch and sat next to Sturges. Put his arm around his shoulders. Oh dear lord Sturges' heart was pounding.

"Wh-why do you always look at me like that? You're better now so there's no reason to... To look that way."

Oh fuck, was it obvious? Oh Christ, oh shit. If Sturges didn't play his cards right he had a feeling Warren would run away for good.

"You know I'm a raider, right?" Warren said in the horrible, gutting silence. "And I kill people with my guns?"

"I just want you to know that you make me a happy fella. I'm really glad we crossed paths."

Warren's face scrunched up in anger, in fear. He pulled away from Sturges and his face had finally settled on shock.

He felt Sturges' temperature. Chuckled breathlessly, a sound Sturges could never forget. Rough fingertips traced down his face. Chills down his spine. Warren's hands finally settled to Sturges' shoulder with two friendly pats.

"I'm glad too. You make me so happy I'm scared the world's gonna take you from me. You know that?" His voice was guarded. He was telling a secret he wasn't even sure he wanted Sturges to hear.

Sturges, however, wasn't sure how to respond. He looked at Warren's lips, then his eyes, his red cheeks.

The words echoed in his mind, each one put butterflies in his stomach.

"I don't think so." Sturges chuckled. "What happened to me is just... unfortunate. My own damn fault. Bad timing is all."

"What did you want me alone for anyway?" Warren asked.

Oh. Right.

"You'd just been sayin' such cryptic, scary shit I just wanted to be alone and hug you."

"So not a love confession?" Warren snorted.

"Mm..." This was embarrassing. "I ain't that suave, War. I'm a handyman. Tinkerer. I build shit. Falling in love isn't something I haven't really experienced until now. Besides, I was pretty overwhelmed with the Relay-- What? Why are your eyes so wide?"

"Until now?"

Oh. He did say that, didn't he?

"You think you love me, handyman?" he asked quietly. He took Sturges' hand and squeezed it, not able to look him in the eye. "Why would you do that to yourself, baby?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Warren was flighty, he would for sure end up running away after this. Sturges, you fucking idiot. Selfish moron.

"I... There's no one else I feel this way about..." This was stupid. He had no idea how to talk about his feelings! "But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can forget this ever happened. Hopefully you'll still come with me to the river, though. I'm really looking forward to that."

Warren laced their fingers together. It felt nice to feel intimate in a way, despite how rough and dry their hands were. He brought Sturges' other hand to his heart. It was pounding, but feeling that heartbeat was... nice.

"See what you're doing to me?" Warren asked. "Do you know what horrible shit I've done?"

"You won't let me forget. But you won't let yourself forget either." He scooted closer. This heat was a lot. This rush of emotion might be too much. "I hope you know that you're a changed man, whether you believe it or not. I--"

Before he could come up with some speech, Warren's rough lips pressed against his, squeezing Sturges' hands tight. It was a short kiss, but one he would remember forever. Sturges froze in shock too long and Warren pulled back and got up, preparing to fly off again in shame.

"Wait, now don't leave! We just-- you-- I..." How could he tell Warren this was okay? Had Warren ever had a real love in his life? Pulled Warren into a warm hug and gave his lips a soft kiss, wondering if this was just some fever dream. Warren didn't resist and leaned against the wall, kissing back, running his hands up Sturges' shirt to feel the skin underneath. "Hey now... slow down." Sturges said, moving Warren's other hand away from his ass. Warren nodded apologetically with flushed cheeks.

"You kissed me..." Warren said breathlessly.

"I mean, you kinda kissed me first."

"W-we should go take a bath. They're getting the communal one ready. I don't usually go, but..."

Warren the ex-Raider was a blushing, stumbling mess who couldn't stop holding Sturges' hand. But he was still holding something back, something Sturges couldn't comprehend no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he wanted to. A certain sort of self-loathing only a killer could have. A suicidal depression only someone who lived his life could understand. And while Sturges had honest feelings and intentions in loving him, he might've made Warren's problems worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> too fast? probably. we all know whos gonna suffer for it though


	7. The Nervous System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallout 4's main plot advances

Idiot idiot idiot.

Was Sturges the idiot? Or Warren? Or were they both idiots too caught up in each other to realise the extent of their stupidity?

Why did he kiss Sturges, and why the * _fuck_ * did Sturges kiss him back so sweetly? So lovingly? Sure it brought him joy in the moment, but goddamn did it make him seethe with rage. Did Sturges not realise he had better options, or was he settling for less? Did he just feel bad for Warren and kiss him to make him feel better?

What did Sturges see in him?

Was it that seed of kindness that he'd planted?

He felt drunk as he left the bath with his new... Lover?  What would he tell John? Or did Sturges not mind friends with benefits?

These were all questions he could just ask Sturges, but apparently he had a hard time communicating.

The bath was relaxing, despite everyone suddenly caring about Sturges' well-being. Sturges thanked them and talked about his excitement for the Relay Machine. That stupid fucking hunk of metal that probably wouldnt't work.

No, that was rude. And knowing how hard Sturges worked on it, it probably would work. The man had talent. It was just a shame everyone else was so eager to exploit it.

"I've been sleepin' way too much." Sturges said as they sat on the dock. Dipped their feet in the water. The moon was lovely tonight. "I wanna just stay up for a week straight."

Warren wanted to stay here. Just move back in to this shack with Sturges, and just live the boring settler life. There was really no reason to run off with the Minutemen if all he needed was right here, right?

"You'd really stay with me?" Sturges raised his eyebrows. "I really thought you'd run off after the kiss. But I'd love to spend more non-sick time with ya."

"The seed hasn't finished growing yet." Warren said, absently splashing his feet in the cool water. "We can settle once I make sure it's not some sorta horrible forest of weeds and spikes."

"I... uh, have no idea what you're talkin' about. But you seem real serious about it. We don't have to rush, though. I'll wait as long as I need to."

Insane. The guy was clearly crazy. Right? Was Warren taking advantage of him without realising it? His chest tightened, rage boiled in his blood. The decent night hair had turned sour, and it was all Warren's fault.

Sturges wanted this. He wanted Warren. Sturges deserved to be happy; Warren apparently made him happy. No matter how hard he tried or fought it, he could not wrap his head around such a ridiculous want. But if it meant Sturges would continue smiling so sweetly and kissing him, he'd let it be.

"Looks like you went through a lot of emotions at once." Sturges noted. The wood squeaked as he shifted closer to Warren. "Sorry."

"Do you want me to stop sucking Hancock's dick?" Warren asked.

Sturges gave him an amused stare.

"Uh. Um." Cleared his throat. Cheeks were hot. That must've thrown him for a loop. "If you wanna be exclusive, yeah, I'd, uh, really appreciate if you stopped."

Shit. There went half the fun in Goodneighbor. Hopefully John would stop by Sanctuary or the Castle sometime soon.

"Alright..." Warren scoffed. "It's worth it anyway."

The river flowed between the dock's support. Through rocks, against the dirt. The sound of the water brought calm to his heart. The flow felt good against his feet. And Sturges' hand on his felt... Well, it felt like how things should be.

"Sturges?" Warren asked. He took note of how handsome the man looked under the moonlight.

"What's up?"

"Are you sure you want this? All the baggage and bullshit that comes with it?"

"Haven't been more sure about anything in my life." Fuck, what a charming smile. "But if you don't wanna--"

"I wanna. Just wanted to make sure you know what you're getting into."

"I know, hotshot. Warts and all, you're still the Warren I wanna be with."

"I just wanna let you know that I think you're real stupid for it." Warren said dully. "And I still gotta go back to the Castle. Can't slack off because I got a kiss. Uh. Did you wanna go with me? To see the ocean?"

"If that Relay Machine wasn't just sittin' there waitin' for Nate, I'd say yes."

"Why can't you tell someone else to press those buttons?"

"It's kinda really finicky stuff. * _If_ * it works."

"You think Nate'll really get into the Institute?"

"It seems too good to be true, right? All I really want is for him to be careful. But he wants to get his son back and I can't fault him for that."

Warren lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. "You know, I wonder if I ran with any synths when I was with the Raiders. Does the Institute replace scum like that?"

"What do you think about them? Synths, I mean."

Warren flicked the ash from his cigarette thoughtfully. "Dunno. I'd be really pissed off if you or Deacon or whoever were killed and replaced with an exact replica. But... Fuck. I really dunno. It never really effected me because I ain't a synth." he paused. "Are you a synth, Sturges?"

"I don't think so. I have memories all the way back to my childhood." he studied Warren carefully. Watching his lips close around the end of the cigarette and take yet another drag. Flick the ash from it.

"As long as my Sturges wasn't killed, I don't give a shit if you're a synth." Warren decided.

+

Sleeping so close to him was like a dream. A wonderful dream that made his stomach flutter every time his mind realised, 'yes, you're sleeping next to Sturges'. The plan today was to head back to the Castle. Sturges would visit next week... Or after Nate got back from the Institute.

Sturges himself started to have cold feet. What if they killed and replaced Nate? he asked. What if Nate died? What if all this stress was for nothing and it doesn't work? Or what if it exploded?

'Man, shut the fuck up.' Warren said, leaning against the console. 'It'll be fine. What happened to all that confidence in your work?'

'Building a device to * _teleport a human_ * to a place I've never seen or heard of is way different than building a generator or some pipes.'

Warren shrugged defeatedly. He didn't want to leave Sturges alone while he was stressed like this, and would much rather bring him to the Castle, but... Well, there was nothing wrong with sticking around a bit longer, right? He dwelled on this for a while, staring in a silent awe at the Relay Machine.

Then he stepped onto the platform. He wasn't sure why, he just got the urge. Luckily for him it wasn't weight activated or else he'd be at the Institute. Or dead. Or both.

What would happen in the Institute? Surely once they found out someone managed to hack into their... sciency stuff and teleport some random man there, they'd kill everyone involved, right?

He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, swallowed the bile back down.

The Institute was probably clean. Really clean. High-tech and filled to the brim with knowledge and egg-head bullshit. Probably had fresh food and water... Probably no killing either. Other than the whole killing-people-on-the-Surface sort of thing.

Wait, Surface? What did he mean by that? Warren shook his head and stepped off the platform, mind spinning faster than a top, heart pounding in his ears.

This thing was bad news.

But it was best to just rip off the bandage now, huh?

Later in the day as the sun was reaching its peak, Nate had made up his mind. He was ready to go.

"Wait, don't you wanna think about it some more, Blue?" Piper Wright whined. Every word out of her mouth pissed Warren off.

"He's been twiddling his fucking thumbs for long enough." Warren muttered. "Makin' Sturges build this fucking shit for no reason. Get your ass on there."

"You don't think he's afraid of what that thing-" she motioned to the machine, face red, hands shaking. "- is gonna do to him? Typical goddamn selfish raiders."

Nate stepped in. Then went to get Sturges. A crowd formed as Wright begged Nate to reconsider.

"I'll be fine, babe. I promise." he reassured her.

What shitty standards Nate had.

"Alright, General. I need you to be as still as possible." Sturges said as Nate got on the platform. "I'm gonna start everything up. You got that holotape on ya, right? Great. Just shove that into any computer you can and bring that back to me, alright?"

And the machine started. Loud, clanking, smoky, blue electricity sparking at the top like some sort of sparkler. How would that even work? How was Nate gonna fucking get back? Why did Warren want to go?

Sweat dripped down Sturges' forehead. "Alright... You ready? Scanning..."

Warren was going to vomit.

"And..."

Fuck.

"Got it! Hold on to your butt!"

And in a flash of blue, the sole survivor of Vault 111 was gone.

The one who gave him a second (or third) chance at life. Gone.

Piper Wright was in hysterics, but that wasn't Warren's problem.

Sturges leaned against the machine and wiped the sweat from his forehead, then massaged his temples. Warren had no idea what to say or think. So he just patted Sturges' shoulder and went to get them some beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> severe depression makes it even harder to write sorry anyone who reads this


	8. Overwhelmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren's an embarrassing horndog and Sturges isn't sure if he likes that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suggestive

'Where'd you get this from?' Nate asked, eyes wide in wonder. Warren stood with a proud smirk under his mask.

'Found it.' Warren shrugged. 'It's all yours.'

Nate sat on the ground and thoughtfully thumbed through the comic book, enveloped in its world. Like for a while he forgot about the reality around him. Warren didn't have the heart to tear him away, so he sat quietly, fucking around on Nate's pipboy.

What would it be like to have a wife and kid in a perfect world, then to wake up to the fucking wasteland all alone? How was this dude not more fucked up?

After Nate finished up, he sighed deeply and looked up at the sky. The air was nice and cool, the stars twinkled. He was a handsome man, Warren decided. Nice voice, a goody-two-shoes, a charismatic leader, and Warren had him all to himself for the most part. But for some reason, Warren didn't want to fuck this dude senseless or to even hold his hands. He just wanted Nate to be proud of him, to be sure in his choice to keep Warren alive.

But as they travelled on, all Warren seemed to do was disappoint him. Too violent. Stole too much. Taking advantage of people. Then Nate went to Diamond City and chatterbox Piper Wright filled his mind with so much disdain that Nate barely wanted to look Warren's way. It didn't help that the smokes and guns Warren acquired earlier that day were stolen from some settlement they'd visited.

Nate had every reason to hate Warren. But the wishy-washyness of it all pissed Warren off and they damn near fought every other day.

Now it was all Warren could think about. Did Nate ever regret sparing him? Why did he still act all buddy-buddy sometimes? Was it fear? Didn't Nate know he could shoot Warren any time and get away with it?

"Damn, you're tense." Sturges' voice was hot against his neck, heavy with sleep. "What's on your mind?"

"Nate." When asked to elaborate, he shut his mouth and tried to get some sleep.

A few moments later, Sturges managed to snuggle closer and say with a sort of listlessness in his voice,

"I'm scared. Excited, but scared."

"You don't feel very excited." Warren muttered. He turned around and propped himself up on his elbow, now focused on his friend. "Look. We both know that fucking portal thing is a mistake. But what can we do? Nate's already gone. Get over it. Don't get all emotional cuz your stupid hero's gone and teleported himself into some fucking crazy faction of fucking synths and spies. He'll be fine! He'll be fine. Fucking crazy bastard."

Sturges gave Warren's trembling hands a tight squeeze. Warren wanted to kill himself at that moment. Things would be so much easier.

Crickets chirped, the night wind blew through the trees and the wires, the fridge in the kitchen kicked back in.

"I know you were kinda projectin' at me, but you might as we'll've been readin' my mind." Sturges said finally. "Nate saved us Quincy survivors..."

Warren lit a cigarette in the bed. Then paused, muttered something about 'breaking one of the Sturges Commandments' and sat at the edge of it. The orange at the end of the cigarette glowed like a firefly, and the smell of tobacco and tar filled the room.

"... I dunno if I could live with myself if I got him killed, ya know? After savin' us and starting up Sanctuary, givin' us new life..."

Warren's stomach felt cold. Anger simmered his blood and he took a long drag of his cigarette. "Don't fucking talk like that."

"Talk like what? You're scared too."

"Don't fucking say 'I dunno if I could live with myself'. Shut up." A bottle of beer before laying back down may be in order. "So what if he got killed? It's his own fucking fault. Don't fucking blame yourself."

The more he dwelled on the thought of Sturges committing suicide the more his heart began to race and his palms began to sweat. Sturges isn't the suicidal type. Right? Sure, he might work himself to death one day, but he wouldn't put a gun to his own head... right? He was stronger than Warren. Warren was overthinking this.

"You'd never kill yourself, would you?" his voice was barely a whisper as he put the cigarette butt in the ash tray and got back to bed.

"Nah..." Sturges said. "Got too much to do."

"I'm not fucking joking!"

Sturges jumped.

Warren had a sinking feeling in his chest.

"No. Killing myself would be like spittin' in the face of all good luck I've had so far." Sturges said. "Besides, I got a rough, handsome man to help me out with things now. Don't wanna let that go to waste." There was a grin in his voice.

"Alright, alright... Get some sleep."

"You're goin' back to the Castle with Preston tomorrow, aren't ya?"

"Yeah?" Sturges' fingers laced with his, and the other hand ran gently along Warren's arm. "Want me to stay? Lucy's gonna give me such an earful for being gone so long I kinda don't wanna go back."

"I know you weren't doin' all that hard work out there just to impress me."

"Maybe I was."

"Look. I ain't gonna tell you to go and risk your life out there to make me happy. But I also don't want ya to waste your time here with me if you really just wanna be out there helpin' folk." Sturges explained.

"Could I give you a real nice parting gift, handyman?"

Imagining Sturges whimpering in pleasure because of him was already driving Warren crazy. Being able to taste this man from top to bottom and give him the pleasure he so rightly deserves... Warren shivered. But he's probably never been fucked in the ass...

"If it's more duct tape, I think I have enough to tape a whole skyscraper back together." snorted Sturges.

"I wanna suck you off." It would be easier at this point, and probably even more erotic than he could ever imagine. Sure sucking John off was a friends-with-benefits thing, but Sturges? The steamy romantic side of this made his mouth water.

"Holy shit. Well, at least you're honest." his voice was sheepish, clearly embarrassed at the thought. How endearing. "U-uh..." Sturges swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck. "Really? I, uh, I always... Y-you'd really do that?"

"I told you about the fuckin' fun at Goodneighbor and with some raiders and whatever the fuck. I'd fuckin' love to do this for you. But if you don't want it, better say somethin'..." he trailed off, lip between his teeth, eagerness extremely obvious to even a blind man.

"Y-you know me... I'm more-- more of a romantic... I'm a romantic guy..."

Well that was mighty disappointing. Warren got under the covers and back in his sleeping position.

"Fine. I'll find you some flowers and candles for when I fuck you up the ass. Deal?" He wasn't even sure if he was genuinely mad at Sturges. But his cheeks were hot and it felt like he was suffocating.

"Sorry, War. That's too fast for me... I ain't--"

"Would you stop fucking apologising? C'mon, lay down. Let's get some sleep."

+

The emotional rollercoaster Warren had the privilege of riding last week had been sealed with a kiss so sweet he felt like a new man for a few minutes. He still thought about it while Lucy talked about everything he'd missed while he was gone. It wasn't until she got up that Warren noticed she had an eyepatch. He didn't say anything. Too preoccupied wondering if Sturges was going to avoid him from now on or not.

Back to the grind. Helping settlers was fine and all. It filled some of the emptiness he'd had from leaving Sturges.

The settlers, those poor little weaklings, were so happy to have been saved! Just in the nick of time! As if more raiders wouldn't take the place of the ones they'd just cleared out. The ghouls were usually a one and done deal, only to be replaced with the raiders again.

Some of the raiders recognised him. Called him a fag for pussying out, made fun of his outfit, laughed at how he still threw up at the smell of viscera and blood. It never lasted long because he shot them soon after. And after he threw up he thought about Nate. Why did Warren never spare them like Nate did? Why did he let his anger get the best of him?

Nate, in Warren's mind, was already dead. The poor fucking bastard. When brought up to Preston, Preston said something so stupidly optimistic that Warren dismissed it immediately. Something about the Minutemen destroying the Institute or something. Whatever. Warren just wanted to know how the Minutemen bury a body left at the Institute.

"He'll be back." John assured him one night. "He's got luck on his side."

"I know he'll be back." Warren responded, putting together the last bit of a new gun. "But I have a sick feelin' he's gonna be theirs. A synth. There's no other way he'd be back otherwise."

And if Nate did come back as a synth, Warren would do the right thing and put him down. It's one thing to kill a man looking for his son, it's another to replace him with a fucking puppet.

Fucking hell.

"What're those for?" Lucy asked.

Warren's face burned hot as the summer son. He slipped the flowers in his bag and stepped back from the bush.

"J-just close your other eye. It doesn't involve you." he waved her off, stalling by drinking some water so he could think up some lie.

But Lucy was not like the raiders who had lost limbs and eyes and all that. She was a human being with feelings. She cleared her throat and said with a wavering voice,

"Don't talk to me that way, Warren. It's not funny."

Warren shrugged, but wasn't able to look her in the face. "Look--"

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to go on missions again. I don't wanna be stuck here messing around with the radio for the rest of my life!" She was trying hard not to cry.

"What, your arms look fine. You can still shoot a gun. Or did the hit give you brain damage too? C'mon, I need some target practice anyway." He didn't mean to make her cry, she was just... she was just emotional. That wasn't Warren's problem. "There was a dude with one eye in one outfit I ran with... Probably the best shot in the whole thing. Wipe your eyes-- eye. and let's go."

"It doesn't * _work_ * like that! You make me so mad sometimes, you know?"

"Whoa! Chill out!" Warren put his hands up. "Moping around about your eye isn't gonna bring it back! So fucking adapt, learn to shoot a gun, and get back on missions with us if you want to so bad. Fuckin' Lefty Larry only had one arm and he could take down ten dudes with just one squirt of Psycho."

By the time he looked in Lucy's direction, she was off to the barracks. Rage burned in his chest, but he let it go. * _She could mope around for the rest of her life of she wanted to,_ * Warren thought despite marching over to her. * _but I ain't gonna let that happen._ *

"Would you stop following me??" she begged from her desk. She had some blueprints under her elbows, it seemed.

"Get off your ass and get your gun." Warren growled. "We're going to target practice, bitch. We both know the world doesn't give a fuck if you're hurt."

"I-I can't--"

"What would you say to me if I was being a dumbass for losing an eye? You'd say I can learn to do everything again. So fucking get up, or end up six feet under."

So Lucy went to target practice with Warren.

"I've had to teach some guys before." Warren said, slipping an eyepatch over his eye. "Now since you lose your depth perception, it can be really tough and scary. But you just need to..."

Lucy had managed to hit the core of the dummy by the time this was over. Warren was relentless, telling her to keep trying, use up all the bullets until you get it down right.

Night fell soon after, and it was Warren's turn to patrol.

"Don't be a fucking pussy." was Warren's good night to Lucy, which was only returned with a middle finger.

It wasn't until the man at the radio read out the time that he got a sinking feeling in his chest. Warren never changed, did he?

Tomorrow he would get to see Sturges.

Ehhh, actually maybe he'd be better off visiting next week. The shame and embarrassment from their last encounter was enough for one lifetime. Sturges probably thought he was a horrible disgusting man at this point. Probably wanted more than a week away from Warren.

Warren did not travel with Preston to Sanctuary. He continued on his patrol, trying to slow his racing thoughts and focus on one thing at a time.

Meanwhile, Sturges had gone back to his usual routine, looking forward to Warren's visit, despite last week.

And the cycle of broken promises begins again.


	9. Meandering About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sturges is listless

** **

[STURGES' TERMINAL]

### **54 - Me ###**

Being sick really did a number on me. The whole time I was just sweating everything out and sleeping. Warren complained that I was never awake long enough for him to clean the sheets. I find myself thinking about that a lot.

Still feel weak in the sun. Just gotta keep drinking water. My breaks are longer just because I don't wanna freak Warren out by getting sick like that again.

Warren left a few days ago with Preston, but not before prompting me with something I wasn't expecting. We haven't been together long, but he wanted to get sexual.

?!

I know his type. I'd love to go ahead and do it one day, but Jesus Christ, it's way too soon. I'm not even remotely prepared for doing stuff with another man. He said before that he likes to get that type of stuff done quick before it's too late. I get that, but I ain't that type of guy. Once I said no he was so disappointed I felt bad myself. I shouldn't, but I did. The plan's to talk some more about it on his trip here at the end of the week.

But all this thinking about Warren and the General and whatever the hell this Institute shit will bring, I realised that I don't think about myself too often. Got too wrapped up in trauma, work, and love.

What I want ain't anything big. Just a simple, peaceful life. I could stay in Sanctuary, tinkering away at whatever blueprints someone hands my way. Or reading over the gun modding notes War wrote out for me. I dunno if this sounds crazy, but I would really like settling down with him.

He's said before how he's too restless. He hates being a sitting duck. But he said he'd get over it if we managed to lock down a shack by the water for ourselves. Goddamn it, just the thought gives me that giddy feeling in my chest. Who would've thought I'd fall for an ex-raider? And how'd I get so lucky? I don't wanna squander what I've got with him. It's real embarrassing to admit to even myself that he's my first relationship since I was a preteen. And Warren, with all his exploits and fun with Hancock, has more experience in that than I do.

This entry was supposed to be about me, but all I can write about is Warren. But I haven't had anyone in my life like this before.

Marcy's got to talking to me about how I'm betraying Sanctuary and gonna get us all killed and all that bull because of Warren. And while it just seemed like her paranoia in the beginning, I'm really starting to think she hates me for spending time with him.

Break time's almost up. Just wanted to put down what was on my mind. After all, the entry on Nate and the Molecular Relay was a goddamn novel, might as well end this one here.

### **[end terminal entry] ###**

Brahmin steak and potatoes had to be the most hearty meal he'd eaten this week. It sat in his stomach for a while and gave him enough energy to work out. He hadn't gotten that luxury in a while, and losing that physique-- strong but not hulking-- would be a shame. While he shied away from violence at any chance he got, * _looking_ * like he could shove someone through a concrete wall was enough to scare some ill-meaning people away.

After his workout he bathed himself and worked on the power armor he'd basically abandoned in order to spend time with his raider friend. The poor armor had dust in the vents and rust from some humidity. Sturges was upset he let it get that bad. He worked and worked and worked until the sun went down.

And once the sun was down and he did his nightly routine (cleaning his teeth, washing his clothes, washing himself), he decided to clean the place up. It wasn't messy, but tools needed to be put back in the tool box and screws needed to be picked up off the ground.

All the while, Warren was out there doing something with his life and Nate was in the Institute.

An ice cold brick hit his stomach. His mind began to reel at the thought of Nate's probable death. Preston was so blindly optimistic about it! While that was nice and all, was it genuinely possible that Nate would return as he was before? How the fuck would he get back?

A quick check in the cabinet revealed that he and Warren had drank the surplus of beer he had tucked away for times like this. The safe too. So he sat down with a box of cigarettes and went to sleep in his cramped little room, all alone.

While he didn't want to be dependent on Warren for comfort, he did miss having him around saying something sarcastic, or something with a rude tone but well-meaning. He asked a lot of weird questions at night too, like 'what if the deep sea life's been mutated too? Do ya think we'll see big ass plankton in the sea? Or a pufferfish. Do you think we could use those as balloons and make a hot air balloon if we get enough?' He also missed how Warren would hold him close. He had a rough grip and cracked hands, but when he held Sturges' hands it was like it didn't matter.

The next few days passed with a pit in his stomach. Every day Sturges would go up to the Molecular Relay and press some buttons, like he could somehow contact Nate and make sure everything was alright in there. Piper would come by hoping the same thing. The realisation that Piper would be devastated if Nate died only made Sturges' jaw clench more.

"Hey, Mama?" Sturges asked one day. "Have you seen anything about Nate? In a dream, or from Preston or anyone?"

"Sturges... You need to relax. You're only hurtin' yourself with all this stress... But if you want me to try and look, I'm gonna need some Jet... You know how the Sight works." at least she was apologetic about it. He sighed in defeat and chatted with her about other things until lunch.

Hancock, the mayor of Goodneighbor and the reciever of Warren's lust for years, had made his way up on Friday. Now not only was Nate on Sturges' mind, but an odd feeling on inadequacy washed over him. It would be rude and perverted to ask about their exploits without Warren around, but...

"Heyy, the handyman!" Charismatic, that one. He came in with a handshake and a 'bro hug', then nudged Sturges with his elbow. "How's it goin' with Warren? He told me to give ya this, by the way."

It was a seashell on a string. Small, but for some reason big enough to make his heart race and his face red.

"U-uh... It's fine. I'm plannin' on grillin' us some food with the recipe he gave me on his next visit."

"Ah, yeah? He told me you liked his recipes."

Did Hancock come from the Castle? Or did Warren go to Goodneighbor? Warren said he'd stop the sexual stuff, so Sturges was probably overthinking things.

"You're lookin' on edge. Everything alright in there?" Hancock was leading them to a more private place to talk-- out on the sidewalk where every merchant could hear wasn't ideal. "Look. I know you know about Warren and me. Yeah, we used to be fuck buddies." he shrugged.

Jesus Christ, what a blunt way to put it. Sturges felt like a child in front of this vulgar man.

"* _Used_ * to is the keyword. Probably doesn't make this encounter any less awkward for ya, huh?" a chuckle. "Sorry about that. Just wanted to drop by and see how you were doin'. He's real worried about you, said you were freakin' out about the Institute thing." Hancock motioned vaguel in the direction of the Relay Machine. "I'm here to tell ya that if Nate could survive 200 years on ice, he can come back from the Institute. Trust me. I've done a lot of travelling with that guy." He concluded by patting Sturges on the shoulder.

He had so many questions. Too many personal ones. He wanted so badly to know what type of lover Warren was because he wasn't ready to find out himself.

"Did he seem mad at me?" Sturges asked finally.

"Mad? At you? What kinda alternate universe am I livin' in? Why would he be mad at you?" Hancock laughed. "He just looked a lil' sad. Just assumed he missed you is all."

It was a slight comfort for Sturges' confused and weary heart. He thanked Hancock for his time and admired the tiny little seashell necklace. It was sweet of Warren to make this for him.

"Hey. Wanna have a heart to heart about our mutual friend?" Hancock suggested. "He said you like the Dirty Wastelanders, but all I have is some rum."

"... Sure." He had no idea what he was walking in to, but he half hoped it was just getting drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like this so far, please leave a comment! id super appreciate it


	10. Warren's Plan

Warren's work at the Castle was nothing to scoff at. He reminded himself of Sturges, who would work and work and work just to cure his boredom. Warren had finished off the three guns he'd been modding and returned them to the arsenal, a smug grin of a job well done on his face. Afterwards he went to wash the dirt and grime off his body and got himself some bread and squirrel chunks.

Not very good, those squirrel chunks. Too stringy. He ended up almost vomiting and washed it down with some Nuka Cola. Sugar Bombs it was.

People talked and walked down the hallways, the radio droned on with its crazy fiddle and constant updates to a dead man, the waves crashed against the shore. The Sugar Bombs were getting cloying, and the Nuka Cola started to taste more chemical-ridden the more he sipped it. He kinda wished he'd stayed with Sturges, but they had to clear out a fuck-ton of ghouls tomorrow so traders could get to some settlements.

Could Sturges be a Minuteman here at the Castle, Warren wondered? Not all the Minutemen were battle-ready. He could help build defenses. The thought excited him, coming back to base after a hard day's work to tell his boyfriend all about it.

"Huh. Warren." grunted a voice in the dimly lit kitchen. "Should've figured it was you scrounging like a rat in here." Always with the compliments Sam was. Rage gnawed at Warren's core.

Warren responded with a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah? The fuck you here for, fatass? I brought this shit here, I do whatever the fuck I want."

Sam scratched his shitty beard and glared at Warren like he'd started the nuclear war itself. Helped himself to the water Warren so thoughtfully supplied for the Castle.

"You're on real thin ice, you know."

"Yeah?" Warren scoffed. "I ain't even had a warnin' yet, Mr Hair-Trigger. So have fun drinkin' the water * _I_ * bottled and boiled, asshole."

"Once a raider always a raider." Sam's voice was worse than nails on a chalkboard. "We're all just waiting for you to leave. Especially after what Lucy said."

It must've been the good making his stomach hurt. Lucy was just angry at everything right now, she had to be. There's no way she'd just turn her back on him like that.

"What'd she say?" Warren demanded. Why was his heart pounding like this? He shouldn't give a shit. It shouldn't matter.

But it did.

"Said you haven't changed at all." said Sam coolly. He'd taken to gathering some jerky and water, probably for a patrol mission. "She's scared of you now. Pfft. Told her she was making a mistake trying to be friends."

Warren flew down the hallway, scanning the blurry scenery for his friend. Why was she scared? What did she mean he didn't change? What about the seeds? All this because he told her to not be a pussy over losing an eye? In his blind running, he crashed into several other Minutemen like a bowling ball.

Murmurs and the rising din of upset began to swell in Warren's ears.

"Anyone seen Lucy?" Warren demanded loudly.

"She doesn't wanna talk to you, asshole." said a voice in the crowd.

They were going out to patrol, judging by the jerky and water they shoved into their bags.

Lucy had to be on her period or something. There's no way she'd just...

You know what?

Fuck her. Warren decided if Lucy wanted to be a little whiny bitch, she could be. He didn't need her and her validation anymore. So he loaded his gun and went to clear out some raiders, swallowing back rage and vomit until the sun came up.

I'm a better man than I was before, Warren chanted as he went through goods he'd rifled from dead bodies. I'm still growing. I don't need Lucy. I don't need the Minutemen. I can be a good person without dressing like a history freak. I can kill every raider I see without them...  
  


"You're quitting the Minutemen?" Preston put his hand to his chest like he'd been hit. "You're one of the sharpest shooters out there, and the best modder in the wasteland...!"

"You're a charmer, ain't'cha?" Warren chuckled behind his cigarette. "Yeah. I need time alone. Or over at Sanctuary. You'll be alright, right?"

"Of course. I just wasn't expecting this, to be honest with you."

"Don't fucking cry about it. I'm always down to help you guys if you need it. Buuut, after my next mission, I'm pretty sure the entire Commonwealth'll be clean." he ended his sentence with a smirk.


	11. Spree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sturges and Warren have taken matters into their own hands.

He wasn't about to call himself clingy or dependent, but after the third week of radio silence from Warren, a pit was forming in Sturges' stomach. The necklace wasn't a going-away gift was it? Living with the guilt of probably killing Nate was enough, but to lose Warren on top of that? He'd be broken to the point of despondency. He decided a day after his meeting with Hancock to pack up and brave the cruel wasteland once again. While the power armor made him stick out like a sore thumb, he'd rather have that protection and carrying capacity. He'd made Warren a little necklace in return, too. Maybe it was a little too simple, a hex nut on a string, but something about seeing Warren wear it (once they met up of course) filled his heart with love.

Travelling the wastes wasn't something Sturges enjoyed. His last big trip was from the carnage of Quincy all the way to Concord, covered in sweat, blood, ash, ears ringing and vision bleary, in a state of utter shock.

Was it a smart idea to go all the way to South Boston alone? Fuck no. But he needed to do this, if not for Warren then for himself. He packed more than he needed and gathered guns he prayed he wouldn't have to use.

Once the first night fell and he was dozing off in his power armor, he started to have doubts. Ones that twisted and turned him every which way and made the nightmares more vivid. In the distance he could hear gun fights. The calm life of Sanctuary was a few hours behind him. He could go back and work himself in his usual monotonous routine, or he could be proactive again and go head on into what he believed would make him happy.

The next afternoon was muggy. He slogged through the ruins of Massachusetts as efficiently as he could, keeping his eyes out for the warning signs Warren and Hancock alerted him of. One step into a raider nest, he'd be dead, or as Warren had so casually put it, 'bastards would probably turn you into a fuck toy. You got a nice ass.' Sturges continued on until nightfall, and found another spot to get an hour of sleep in.

A few days into his travels, he rested at a settlement.

"You must be Sturges." the wife's voice was as warm as the coffee she served.

"I sure am, ma'am." his voice was heavy with sleep, but full of curiosity. "Uh, how d'ya know me? I'm a real homebody."

"Your Minuteman friend. Warren stops by here every now and then to help us out." the husband's voice almost made Sturges jump out of his skin. "He was pret-ty spot on about the muscle."

What could Warren possibly be saying to all these settlers about him? It was sweet that Warren thought so much about Sturges...

"You made him blush, Charles! Hush!"

"I'm actually on my way to visit him at the Castle." Sturges cleared his throat. "You know any mercs for hire?"

There were a few wandering around in a pack, Charles said. They want 300 caps. Sturges only had 250. After a  much-needed rest and giving thanks in the form of fixing stuff and 100 caps (which the farmers refused), he was back on his way to the Castle. But be careful, the wife, Mary, said. There's someone going crazy and killing every raider they see. Stay away from the camps.

* _Imagine being able to drive one of these cars down the roads... Could I ever put one together and get her goin'?_ * Sturges pondered that night. He scanned the area carefully. Usually there were ghouls here, but judging by the bodies in the corner, they'd been taken care of by the Minutemen, probably.

The past few days were relatively peaceful. If things continued like that, he'd be home faster than the thought.

Wait, home?

He followed Warren's shoddy map as closely as he could, wary of the ghouls that he said would crop up. The second he let his guard down, he would be attacked, he could feel it. So he continued on.

It wasn't until the 7th day he was attacked.

It was a blur-- gunshots blared out, his power armor was reacting, he took out a gun and scanned the area.

* _I don't want to use this. But I ain't gonna let some low-life scum step all over me._ * Sturges decided, jaw tight.

"C'mon, show yourself, you coward." Tough talk for someone not willing to kill another person. Just cripple them and leave, Warren had suggested.

Three raiders popped out, leering about power armor and caps and having 'fun'. His stomach churned. Gunshots ripped through the metal and hit the frame. He was seeing white. He put his finger on the trigger with a twisted stomach and blaring ears and shot at one of the raiders' legs. He let out a cry of pain and Sturges wanted to run far, far away-- Until one had jumped on his back and he had to swat them away. He could hear the sound of bones cracking as the man hit the tree. The one with the crippled leg was still shooting, and the second one had run off.

He dropped a few stimpacks and med-x on the ground despite his better judgement and ran away like a coward, as far as he could so he could safely get out of his suit and calm himself from a panic attack.

This area was generally clear, Warren had said. The only idiots coming this way are, well, idiots looking to rob travellers.

That should be the only altercation, right?

Right?

÷

Warren wasn't throwing up anymore. His entire body was shaking, his vision was blurry, he wasn't sure which if he was bleeding or if it was just everyone else's blood. The psycho was wearing off and the jet was kicking in. He slogged through the bodies of the damned and sat down to catch his breath. 6 raider dens down, so many more to go. He considered killing the runners, but he was smart enough to wear his mask and some different armor during this so no one would recognise him.

He didn't have a plan after this, other than a shower and a lot of rum.

Was he doing a good thing? No idea. Was he a crazy murderer now? Did it count if the raiders were the scum of the earth anyway?

* _I didn't kill the runners,_ * he thought through ragged breaths and a stimpak. * _I'm doing everyone a favor._ *

He'd run out of psycho though. He wouldn't want to admit to Hancock he needed chems, otherwise he'd run over to Goodneighbor.

* _Everyone will thank me. They'll like me. They can't call me a raider if there are none left!_ * Oh. All the vomit and tears had built up. Wonderful.

After twenty minutes of dry-heaving and coming down from the psycho, he made his way to the next den and cleared it out. Someone had put their hands up, he spared them, but then they stabbed him. He shot their head clean off, despite how hard he was trembling.

Oh Warren, Warren, Warren.

Five days without sleep left him delirious, he was running on an empty fuel tank and about to pass out at any time, caked in Raider blood and rubbing wounds open under his armor. He had to take care of himself.

Word was getting out about a mysterious person taking out the raiders, according to Diamond City radio. Some raiders were running scared. Some were suiting up.

He had the sick, sick feeling he'd only made things worse. But fine. He knew how raiders worked. He cleaned himself and his clothes in the river, trying desperately to convince himself he was doing good. Because he was, right? Right??

The other three camps he'd cleaned up were aware of the raider killer, but weren't afraid. They died like the animals they were.

He'd ran off again to clean up and drink and scarf down some food when he noticed someone tall and familiar in the pond's reflection.

"Nate??"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "what do you think your weaknesses are in your writing?"
> 
> uh my dude have you even read my writing, its everything.


	12. Uh Oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate may be back, but Warren's still Warren.

Did Warren die? Was Nate's spirit stuck here or did Warren somehow get into heaven? If Nate was alive, what was he doing this far from Sanctuary?

"Why are you covered in so much blood?" Nate interrupted his racing thoughts.

"Raiders. Next question. I'm dead?"

"No..." Nate crossed the stream carefully and checked Warren's armor for wounds. Winced when he found them. "What the hell did you get yourself into?"

"Who fucking cares? Is this a dream? How the fuck did you get out of the-- You're a synth." He got up and pushed away from his hero, gun drawn. "Don't look so fucking scared. There's no way I'm letting you back into the wild so you can spy on people. I just let my excitement get the better of me. Those fucking bastards made a perfect clone..."

Nate put his hands up. "Okay, I'm gonna tell you what happened down there... Don't shoot me, alright?"

"Clock's ticking, you fucking puppet." Warren growled, pressing his bloody gun to Nate's adam's apple.

"My son's running the Institute."

"Oh, your 200 year old son, Vaultie?" he shoved it hard into the synth's throat, making Nate cough and back up. "I ain't that fuckin' stupid."

"I-I don't know how it works either, Warren. Shaun runs the place. They're advancing technology like I've never seen down there! Bioscience, synth retention, synth * _making_ *... Everything down there's so shiny and new looking, they got me to stay for a while." Nate trailed off. "Look, I know it's really hard to believe. I'm * _still_ * trying to process this... But look." he dug through his new bag. Huh, he got to shower and brush his teeth too. Nate pulled out a book and magazine-- pristine condition. "I got some tools and a magazine for Sturges. And I've got a gun and this," he wiggled the book. "for you."

Warren yanked the book out of Nate's hands.

The World Under The Ocean, Then and Now. by T8-43

"Never heard of this author before. But fine, you can live. For now. I got my eye on you. If anything, Sturges'll finally be able to breathe now that someone who looks like you is back." he paused. "But I don't want you near him. If you fucking hurt him--"

"I'm not a synth. Hard to believe, I know."

"Where the * _fuck_ * did you end up? Thought you'd be in Sanctuary."

"The C.I.T Ruins. Managed to sneak out without getting turned to paste by the muties in there."

Nate was a synth. A really convincing one. Especially with the wavering trust in Warren and how he still rubbed his cheek with his index and middle finger when he was nervous.

"You look too clean to have not killed any of those bastards."

"War, that's my son in there. He's been waiting for me this whole time."

"For all you fucking know, your son could be a synth. They killed him like they killed you and replaced you both." Warren decided. "If I'm right, kill me now. Cuz I'm gonna kill you the second you look suspicious. Nobody'll know it was you"

"I'm not gonna fucking kill you, Warren, I'm not a synth."

Warren lit a cigarette with a frazzled mind. Took a deep drag.

"I'm slaughtering raiders. Wanna join me?"

"Guess it'll give me a chance to test this synth grenade."

Warren choked on the cigarette smoke. "Fucking what?"

"Sends Gen 1 and 2 Synths to help fight."

"... Huh." What if Nate somehow made it out alive? What if this really was him? But what were the odds, really? He wanted to trust this man, but how could he?

... Sturges needed closure. He'd keep this Nate synth alive long enough to meet Sturges, then get him caught in the crossfire later. No one kills the guy who gave him a new life and gets away with it.

÷

How did the traders walk so confidently down these roads and bushes, knowing someone was gonna come out and rob them? How did Warren just walk around the Commonwealth like it was nothing? Why was he not used to how the world worked?

In a few days time he'd be at the Castle. He went over and over in his head what he'd tell Warren, who would likely be throwing a fit because of how dangerous the trip was.

'I came to see you because I missed you. Sorry if it seems selfish.' he repeated in his head. 'The trip wasn't so bad... Do you wanna go sit by the shore you're always talking about?' See? Easy! Warren was always a rollercoaster of emotion, a little flirting would probably dissolve any lingering anger Warren had.

The sky was crowded with dark storm clouds all day. He didn't want to be a walking lightning pole, but he had no other choice at this point. Maybe he'd come across another settlement, do some favors for them while it was storming, and go on his merry way afterwards.

But the rain pelted at his suit and thunder growled hungrily in the distance. The closest shelter was an old hospital. Judging by the rotting super mutant carcasses, something else was in there. Should he just keep walking...? Could it be the Minutemen that cleared it out? Or raiders?

He couldn't stomach that anyway. He continued on in the rain, on the lookout for some shelter.

÷

"Dunno why I'm telling a synth all this, though." Warren concluded. "Cuz if you were the real Nate you would've given me a fucking 'I'm-better-than-you' look when you saw me at the river."

Nate wiped the blood from his face and furrowed his eyebrows. "Look, I was just happy to see an old friend again. What-- you really think I hate you or something?"

"You think you're better than me. So, yeah. But the real Nate knew that."

"I never thought I was better than you, I was just mad that you kept stealing and sucking the caps out of people in need."

"I never sucked anyone off around you!" Warren exclaimed.

"Wh-- what?" He ran his hands through his hair and caught his breath. That had been their third massacre in a row. Nate was exhausted. Probably wanted to go home. Or what they programmed him to think was his home. "So you've been at this...?"

"For a few days. Kinda fun, kinda makes me wanna turn the gun on myself at the end of it all." Warren snorted. "If I don't walk into the wrong camp before then. But, hey, maybe it'll be safe to walk around for a week. I could finally bring Sturges to the--" no he can't. Fuck. He rubbed his temples. "I dunno. I'm just gonna go back to Sanctuary if I survive this."

"I think we put the fear in these guys. Sanctuary's only a few days away." Nate shrugged. "I could take over."

"You're bloodthirsty, huh?" Warren chuckled. "Well, that's not out of character I guess. We can paint the town red on the way back home, what do ya say?"

"We weren't doing that already?"

"No. I was just killing."

"Huh. Haven't changed at all have you?"

It was said lightly. As a joke.

But Warren had the barrel on his chin, finger near the trigger.

He was a fucking monster. The high would come down. His addictions were coming back full force. What would Sturges think? Jesus Christ, what would Sturges think?!

"I fucked up." Warren's voice cracked. "I-I fucked up. Oh my god, I made a big fucking mistake."

Nate was a synth, he'd be letting the enemy right into their base... Why didn't he just shoot Nate? Why was it so much harder than he thought it'd be to kill a puppet like that?

"You slept at all lately?" Nate asked quietly.

"If you're gonna kill me, fucking do it! I deserve it!"

"Oh my god, shut up with that shit. I'm not gonna kill you and I'm not a synth." Nate paused. "But don't shoot me. I don't wanna die after I reunited with my son."

Warren was trapped on all sides.

Sturges wouldn't be able to fix that, but it'd be damn nice to see him again. Stay a while before he shot himself in the head.

Warren hadn't fucking changed a bit, and it was killing him.

"W-What do you want me to tell your girlfriend?" Piper Wright should've been the last thing on his mind. But it was spinning at light speed and he couldn't catch up.

Nate's face lit up.

"Piper!" he said under his breath. "Is she in Sanctuary?"

"Last time I checked, yeah..." Why'd he say anything? Would Wright be able to tell if her boyfriend was replaced by a synth? Hell, maybe Mama Murphy's drugged out husk of a body could give some insight.

Was he doing the right thing going to Sanctuary with synth-Nate?

Nate yanked the gun from Warren's hands. "You need to stop. Really. And it's not even like you to have this dirty of a gun." he said of the blood and gore crusted on it. He winced and wrapped it up.

"Now you're showing off all the shit they made you remember..." Warren didn't mean to point the barrel under his own chin again. "Whatever. * _Whatever._ * Take me home, vaultie." Just think about seeing how happy Sturges would be to see some form of Nate safe and sound.

÷

More gunshots. His entire body was tight, his mind kept replaying the raider ambush. The sound of cracking bones and gutteral screams. He didn't want this. But he was already almost there. He's got to push forward.

'WOOOOHOOOO!' Someone in the distance was having fun in the firefight. Either a thrill-seeker or some fucking raider. 'I'll fucking wear your guts like a crown!'

Sturges stopped dead in his tracks.

His trip just got a whole lot shorter and his stomach felt a hell of a lot weaker.


	13. Problem Solving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warrens a fucking IDIOT

The stench of death made it through the power armor helmet. He swallowed back the vomit and thanked god the armor could do the standing for him, because his legs were giving out.

"Warren?" the words fell through the mouthpiece like marbles. It was so hot in here. This had to be a dream. This wasn't Warren.

"Fuck, we got a tin can!" That was Warren alright. He pulled out a grenade-- Fuck! He pulled out a grenade! Sturges almost tripped over himself trying to get out of there. But Warren put it back into his bag and said in a low voice, "that's the armor Sturges' been workin' on..."

All this fucking carnage... This was a dream. Warren said he'd never touch chems again, but here he was, still hyped up on psycho in a pool of dead raiders.

Warren removed his mask, eyes wide as saucers, pupils as big as the sun.

"I-I was goin' to see ya at the Cas--" Vomit took the place of his words and he wrenched his helmet off to let it out. He puked on a body. He was going to pass out.

"Hey... Let's get out of here." Warren decided, taking Sturges by the power armor's arm. "We have to get you home. I'll destroy anyone who looks at you wrong."

He didn't remember getting out of his power armor or even moving to a cleaner building. He was just sitting on the ground while Warren squeezed his hand like a stress ball.

Warren was a killer.

Somewhere along the line of love and infatuation, Sturges had willfully ignored that fact. Too blind, too optimistic, too fucking blinded by the good side to even think of the bad.

It was just a raider camp, sure, but why? Why was he stained red with blood? There weren't any other Minutemen around, so this wasn't a mission-- he'd done this on his own.

"I wanted to kill them all." Warren sounded different, snarling, nearly frothing with rage at the thought of raiders. "I got 15 camps in a few days. I'll fucking get 15 more! I need it to be * _safe_ * before I can take you anywhere."

Sturges put his head back against the wall, unable to fully process this.

"They're * _raiders_ *. Raiders ain't shit! What difference does it make that one person's taking them all out, huh? Do you hate me?" Such a wild rollercoaster Warren was on right now. "I wanted the Commonwealth to be safe-- are you scared of me? B-babe?"

Sturges just wanted to wake up already. He rubbed his teary eyes for a while, hoping when he woke up they'd both be at the house in Sanctuary, clean and ready to start the day.

But no. He was in a dusty rotted building, next to his bloodstained boyfriend.

He couldn't find words right now.

"I'm not addicted. Not addicted to psycho... I just need to use it for the cleaning..."

Sturges wanted to scream.

"Please don't be mad. You're not even looking at me." Warren's voice cracked. "Were you coming to see me? You were walking all the way to the Castle, Sturges??"

Hard to believe that was only an hour ago.

"Please don't be afraid of me. I'm-- I was doing a good thing. I'm not bad anymore. I'm not. I changed. I'm a good person now. I'm not like them-- I-I-I... Please can you say something to me? Do you hate me as much as I hate myself right now? Even more?"

Sturges couldn't bear how sad Warren was, but he just felt numb. Too many emotions, too many thoughts, if he spoke now he would explode and make the situation so much worse.

What could he even say? It's not like Warren was slaughtering innocent people. These were raiders, absolute scum of the Commonwealth. Everyone wanted them dead. He could get angry about the chems. Warren had been clean for years, but decided to break the streak with this twisted mix of justice and debauchery.

Warren was talking again, wiping the tears from his eyes and smearing the blood away with it.

"Nate saw me. At the river. He helped me out... I don't know if he's a synth or not. We were going back to Sanctuary and hitting the raider dens on the way... I'm so thirsty... I'm gonna-- ohh the stuff's wearin' off. I can't hear or see anything..."

Sturges stomach twisted in knots as Warren reached desperately out for him.

He sat closer and held him, wondering if this would all come to an end right here because of a chem overdose. And then what would Sturges do? There was too much going on.

Warren let out a deep sigh and rested on Sturges' heaving chest. Then went limp.

Alarms went off in Sturges' head. He shot up and shook Warren awake, checking his pulse and breathing.

"Sturges...?" Warren slurred. Touched him blindly until he felt confident it was Sturges. "Don't shake me... I need to sleep this off."

"Don't die... Please." Sturges whispered, throat hoarse. "Please."

+

"Oh good. You're finally awake."

Nate.

Oh shit! Nate! Here in the flesh!

Warren was nowhere to be seen. His stomach felt cold.

"Nate-- Warren-- I..." he massaged his temples and took several deep breaths.

"War's cleaning off in the stream." Nate explained. Sturges still couldn't believe what was happening. "I've been giving him plenty of food and water. Took away all his chems and everything. And, I got that stuff from the Institute for you." Nate slipped a holotape out of one of his pockets.

"What was it like?"

Nate explained the shiny, high-tech underground. Talked about the books and Shaun and how crazy he thought the world was now. Then he paused and looked out the broken window to presumably check on Warren in the stream.

"Gonna learn a lot from this tape." Sturges said weakly. "I'll get to deciphering it as soon as we get back home..." He got up on weak legs and refused Nate's help. "I got a lot on my mind right now. I'm really glad you're alright, General. Really. Knowin' you made it back in one piece... It's just really nice."

Nate nodded.

Sturges made his way to Warren, who was now drying off and putting on clean clothes. Apparently they'd burned Warren's killing clothes during the night.

"Huh. So it wasn't a hallucination." Warren cleared his throat. "You... you really saw me like that. You're lookin' at me like you want nothin' to do with me. Go ahead. Nate'll make sure you're safe on your way back."

There was so much finality in his voice, but it was still so soft.

"What happened?" Sturges asked finally.

"I decided to kill every raider I saw." he shrugged. Water swam around his feet, the summer breeze blew his hair back. "I'm not the person I thought I was. I'm sorry." he cleared his throat. "I thought I changed. I really did. I thought I could just live a happy life with you. Live together on the shore, goin' out with the Minutemen here and there..." he sniffed, but pushed away Sturges' hug. "But I'm just a fuckin' monster. So I want you to go back home. Nate might be a synth, but he still knows how to fight. You're safe with him."

"I'm not goin' anywhere without you." Sturges said firmly. "I can't wrap my head around all this right now. But I know you need me right now."

"Why would you give yourself to me like that? You saw me back there. Drugged up, in a pile of bodies, covered in blood... Does it being raiders suddenly make a fucking massacre like that alright?"

"I'd be fuckin' hard pressed to say you did a bad thing with those raiders." Sturges admitted.

"Then why? Why are you still looking at me like you think you're next? I never wanted you to be afraid, I just wanted to make things better, but I did it wrong... I'm a killer." Warren wasn't able to look in Sturges' direction anymore. He turned around and held his elbows tight. "You could be next. Who knows? What if I do the same thing to Sanctuary?"

"Because you never killed innocent people." Sturges said firmly. "I'm gonna be honest with ya, Warren... I'm scared. I can't get what I saw outta my head. J-just thinkin' about it makes me sick."

"* _Then go back home_ *!" Warren shouted. "I won't touch any settlements! I won't go near them! Don't let your want to help other people put you in danger. I... I love you. And that's why I want you to go."

Sturges tried the swallow the lump in his throat. His fists were clenched tight. Eyes squeezed shut. He had a terrible headache.

"I didn't walk a week out here to leave without you."

"Read about that. It's called the 'sinking cost fallacy' or something like that..." Judging by the sound of the water, Warren was walking out. He dried his feet and put his boots back on. "I was already on the way to Sanctuary. Maybe if you had some fucking patience we wouldn't be in this situation. Just... Look me in the eyes, will ya? You're such a softy..."

Oh. A hug.

Warren embraced him tight. Kissed him soft. Ran his hands through Sturges' hair and looked at him with tired eyes.

Sturges felt at home like this, arms around Warren, hearts beating against one another's.

But Warren was right. Sturges was afraid now, with a fear he'd never had before. To see what carnage he'd caused like that...

"You're still a good person." he said quietly.

Warren shoved him back, hard. Fire burned in his eyes and he growled.

"And you're a fucking retard! Did you know that? You're the most pussy, retarded person I've ever met in my fucking life!" he shouted. "Only a fucking faggot like you would see all that fucking shit I did and call me a good person! You naive, stupid fucking idiot! I fucking hate you and your pacifist ass! You should've just fucking stayed at Sanctuary where you were safe! Safe from raiders, safe from the blood, safe from mutants and all this other shit! Safe from me! Go home! I don't ever want to fucking see your face again, do you understand? Do you want another Quincy, Sturges? That shit happens because you let people like me step all over you! So go! Get the * _fuck_ * out!"

Sturges couldn't even move. That was pissing Warren off even more. But that fact made him a deer in headlights. Each shout was like a stab, and the insults were salt in the wounds.

Warren couldn't mean all of this, but in a way he was right.

Sturges had invested way too much into one person. But he needed to make that one person feel better. He was so sad, scared and broken. But he couldn't speak, he was in shock. Warren called him out on it, called him a pussy, and vanished off into the forest.

"All his weapons are inside," Nate scared the shit out of Sturges. "he's not gonna do anything. Here." A cold bottle of water. "So goddamn dramatic, I swear."

"General... Did you help him kill all those raiders?"

"Yeah, I hit about 5 dens with him. He got a little out of it once he realised what he'd done..." Nate trailed off and shook his head. "I don't think he did anything wrong."

"Are you afraid of him?"

"No." Nate said. "He didn't even shoot me despite convincing himself I'm a synth."

"He's a jackass." Sturges decided solemnly. "But he's * _my_ * over-emotional jackass, so I gotta help him out somehow."

"Is that really what you * _want_ * to do, Sturges? Or do you feel like you have to?"

"I love him. I can't just abandon him when he needs me. I just... I gotta lot on my mind and don't know how to make him feel better. Maybe we'll go fishing once we get home... And I can work on that Institute data."

÷

He knew his alone time would be interrupted. Hopefully it was someone who could put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

He could tell by the footsteps it was that fucking moron. He brought some mirelurk and noodle soup and some water. He didn't say anything, thankfully. Just put the meal in front of Warren and sat with him in the grass.

The moon bathed the trees and flora in silver and indigo. Stars speckled the sky. Crickets, birds and the gentle trickle of the stream was enough to lull the emotionally fatigued raider to sleep again.

Sturges was looking at him. Then at the nature. Finally, the book Warren had the delicious soup sat on.

"You found another sea book?" he sounded so fucking tired.

"Nate gave it to me. Written by an Institute synth. I already know all this shit, but..." he shrugged and handed the book over. Sturges wasn't able to read in the dark but it was the thought that counted.

They sat in silence for a while after Warren finished his food. Apparently Sturges had bought the ingredients while he was on his way to the Castle. He was really looking forward to cooking with Warren for some reason. He wasn't the best at it, but it made Warren feel so warm inside he wished he was poisoned so he could finally die.

Warren listened to the crickets and wrapped his arms around his knees, chin resting on his arms.

Sturges shifted his position. He obviously wanted to get closer, but decided against it.

It wasn't until midnight that one of them spoke again.

"You're a really nice person." Warren said, looking at his boyfriend's silvery silhouette. "I yelled at you... You didn't deserve that. I just don't want you to get hurt. I almost killed you when you were in that power armor. If you were in a regular suit, you would've died. I need you to realise that."

Sturges nodded.

"It was real stupid of you to try and walk, all alone to the Castle. You could've died. You didn't have a merc or nothin' with ya. Idiot."

"I knew what I was gettin' into, darlin'. The heart wants what the heart wants."

"Even after I proved to you that I haven't changed at all?"

"If that's what you think, sure. But anything I say is gonna piss you off." Sturges sighed. "I dunno the right thing to say. I just want you alive and happy."

"What makes you happy, Sturges? Other than building shit... And me, for some reason."

"Bein' alive." he said softly. "Life isn't somethin' to take for granted. And those old comic books. Those are pretty funny."

"Uh huh." Warren nodded. "I didn't save any of those. I should've. Sorry."

Sturges pulled something out of his pocket.

"I need you to promise me you won't blow up at me. I don't think I can take any more of that. Really."

Warren narrowed his eyes. "I don't like that. You didn't do any fucking chems or any of that shit did you? You didn't get all depressed and slit your wrists, right?!"

"No. None of that... I made this for you before I left Sanctuary. Hancock gave me your gift," he pulled out the little seashell necklace he had around his neck. "I did what I could with what I had."

Oh. A little hex nut on a string. Why was Warren crying? Because he was an emotional fucking idiot?

Sturges was too good for him. Maybe Warren was taking advantage of him somehow, or manipulated him into loving him, or maybe this was some sort of Stockholm Syndrome or something...

"You know there are better people out there than me, right?" Warren swallowed hard, necklace squeezed tight in his fist. "You don't have to love me. Do you know that? I would be so happy if you left to go be with someone better than me. Just because I love you doesn't... It doesn't mean you have to love me back."

"I know, sunshine. We can talk more about this at home, alright?"

Warren held Sturges tight and didn't want to let go. Ever. But night was falling, and Nate was probably bored out of his mind. Hell, he probably wanted to see Piper Wright.

Once morning rose, they packed up and got ready to go.

Warren still wanted to get shot, but he'd hold off running into danger for now.


	14. Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're back in Sanctuary.

His stomach was tight, the power armor was sweltering-- or maybe it was the threat of vomiting making him so hot and dizzy.

"Uh huh. See, that's how I * _know_ * you're a fucking synth. No one in the right mind would fuckin' praise the Institute unless they were a synth." the jovial undertones of Warren's voice were long gone, now just monotone and tired of existing.

He brought up good points. It was entirely possible Nate had been replaced with an Institute synth. But why would he be handing over all these Institute secrets for Sturges to crack into?

"You're one to talk." Nate muttered. "The place was like going back to my time... Only more futuristic."

"I don't know what the fuck that means, man." Warren droned. "The clean water and cold air sounded nice, but I really have no reason to trust you."

"And we're still headed back to Sanctuary, aren't we?" Nate smirked. "You're just being a hard ass because you missed me, aren't you?"

"I'm being a hard ass because you could've been replaced and not even realised it! Nate, you haven't been around the Commonwealth as long as we have! The Institute aren't our friends. But I'm pretty sure you found that out, didn't you?" Warren sighed. "I'm too tired to be mad right now. I just..." He looked at Nate for a few seconds, then shook his head in defeat. "I have too much going on. And now Sturges is gonna be working for weeks on this this little holotape... Motherfucker, you're always doing * _something_ *, aren't you?" Now Warren was looking at Sturges as they walked. He had to crane his neck up to try and glare at his face through the helmet. "Can you take a break?"

"I like bein' busy." Sturges said, trying to ignore the stench of death coming from a raider den nearby. Warren had hit that one on his own and it made Sturges' stomach even tighter. "Gets my mind off things."

Warren was silent the rest of the trip, save for a fee callouts about bloodbugs and mongrel dogs.

That Warren, shouting about using someone's guts for a crown... That wasn't the real Warren, was it? The one lurking deep inside, jumping on another chance to get to kill people? His eyes were wild, dilated, looking everywhere and nowhere at once. But he still had concern for Sturges, despite the effects of the chems and adrenaline rushing through his body. It was sweet in a way. Warren loved Sturges, and Sturges found comfort in that. But... Fuck. He still didn't know what to think about this whole thing. He just wanted to get back to Sanctuary, scrub Warren clean, and start working on the Institute holotape.

Fuck, a hot bath and fresh food sounded nice. Real nice.

The tall walls of Sanctuary leered over them, casting cool shadows the size of skyscrapers. Shiny turrets chugged along on top, eager to riddle the malicious with lead, barbed electric wire threatened anyone who was brave enough to try to sneak in. And the guards, Judy and Jason, put their guns down once they realised Nate was back. He was greeted with excitement.

"Honestly, we didn't expect you or Sturges to make it back in one piece." Jason admitted. "Glad you guys are back."

"What about me?" There was a hint of hopefulness in Warren's voice, despite it being muffled by his mask.

Jason stepped back. "Yeah... Uh. You... you too."

"Fucking bullshitter." Warren muttered. "I just cleaned out a fuck ton of raider camps! You're just gonna blow me off like that?"

"War." Sturges was careful not to hurt Warren as he put his arm in front of him. "Let's talk at my place, alright?"

Warren's eyes went wide and he rifled through his backpack. Sturges was too busy getting out of his power armor to hear what he was telling Nate.

Jeez, he was more sore than he thought from lugging around in that armor. The most important thing was this holotape.

Was this Nate a synth? Had he accidentally invoked their wrath, and a copy of Nate was here to teach them a lesson? Just the idea added to the sourness in his stomach.

"Here. Let's go." Warren shoved a hubflower in his hand and pulled them into the house, locking the door behind them.

"Thanks, sunshine..." Sturges blinked. "I'll get the water heated."

Warren leaned against the bathroom doorway. "Did I ever tell ya about how I almost got my cock sliced off?"

Sturges tilted his head. "Is this the assaultron story? Cuz ya told me that one."

Jesus Christ.

"Oh, guess I did tell ya. Huh. Got another question." He took his shirt off, his chest a canvas of scars and wounds still fresh and weak. "Did-- Oh. You're lookin' at me all weird."

"We should take you to a doctor first. Did you get the bullets out, at least?"

Warren rolled his eyes. "Yes. I don't need to go to the doctor."

The infection on a wound he'd stitched himself said otherwise. Warren was dragged to the doctor, and he was furious about it.

"I didn't wanna see everybody, I just wanted to see you." he whispered. "These people aren't gonna help me. And I'm... I have a boner."

"Why do you have a boner?"

"Cuz I was gonna fuck you after the bath."

Sturges bit his lip, his steps were caught on pebbles for a second. The whirlwind of thoughts, fantasies of giving and getting pleasure from someone he cared for so much... Chills.

"Well, we don't need this gettin' worse." Sturges said of the wounds. "If worse comes to worse, we'll have to wait 'till next week. Just need to make sure you're alright."

"Did you get hurt on the way to see me?" Warren asked quietly. "Can you get checked too?"

Sturges nodded. "If it'll make ya feel better."


End file.
